02x01 - The Hunt for Bella

[bunniefuu]

Rip Digman, the man once known

as the greatest
archaeologist in the world.

They say no one knows more
about the past,

but has it ever occurred to you

that instead of
digging up history,

you may soon become it?

Oh, I know I'll perish someday,

but let's just say that tonight,
death isn't in the cards.

All right, let me just
pop on my readers

and see what I got here.

I wish you had just
learned how to play poker, Rip,

so we didn't have to come up
with this scheme.

Just tell him
what to do, Agatha!

Sorry for yelling, but I'm
more nervous than Andy Sachs

on her first day
at Runway magazine.

Rip,

you have the better hand.

- I'm all in.
- A bold move.

The only way I can call is by
betting this, Satan's Compass.

Legend has it that it can

- guide you to the Antichrist.
- Huh. You don't say.

That's so wild.
I had, like, zero clue

it was in your possession.

But I guess the bauble
would cover your bet,

so I will allow it.

Do you know why they call me
The Scar, Mr. Digman?

Because of the scar
on your face?

No, because
my favorite character

in The Lion King is Scar.

- But he's pure evil!
- Precisely.

And just as he showed
Mufasa no mercy,

I shall show none
to you as well.

A straight. A flush?

Um, okay, you sound like
a toilet right now.

Well, I win. It was fun. Bye.

What's this? You cheated!

What? I've never seen this
fast loris before in my life.

Oh, now you wear
your birthday present?

Fleety, you piece of sh*t!

- Get them!
- Hyah! Deck of cards!

Nice of you to drop in.
Did you get the Compass?

Does the pope sh*t in my mouth?

Ew. Rip, does he?

Uh... no.

You know what? Just drive!

Saltine, you're headed
towards a red light!

Not with my newest
cool invention:

glasses that make
the color red look green.

- Put 'em on.
- Okay, uh...

Whoa! It's green! Go!

I got to borrow these next time
I watch that awful movie,

Red Shrek.

It's okay! My glasses
made your sign look green!

I accept that explanation.

The harbor's straight ahead!
We're almost at Swooper's plane!

Damn it, he grabbed the Compass.

After him!

Throw you?

But that's too dangerous.

All right, fine, you courageous
little psycho.

Fleety!

Hyah, whip and yank.

Gotcha.

Now to head back to the harbor.

It might be
a little late for that.

But that's
the only way to Swooper.

No, it's not. Turn left.

Swooper, take off!

But, Rip, you're not on board.

I said take off!

Okay, Saltitties,
you know what to do.

Rip, we talked about this.

You absolutely cannot
call me that.

But I said you can call me
Riptitties to make it fair.

I don't have any interest
in calling you that.

Fine, you f*cking prude.

I'm sorry.
Don't report me to HR.

Don't f*cking sue me.
I really mean it, I'm sorry.

I was just trying to be funny.

I'm a f*cking dinosaur, Saltine!

You got to understand how hard
it is to unlearn this sh*t.

Oh, my God, shut up!

And hold on to your Riptitties.

Looks like we are back
on our bullshit.

Hyah!

It's been three weeks since
the Antichrist and Uncle Christ

possessed the bodies
of Bella Torres

and Quail Eegan's father.

And in that time,
their assaults on humanity

have only grown more horrifying.

- Feel the zap.
- Please, no.

I haven't had my java yet.

In fact, their global body count

has reached
a history-making high.

The Guinness World Record
for most people slain

by a demonic duo goes to
the Uncle and Antichrist.

It sickens me
that I have to sing them

the official Guinness
congratulations song.

♪ You rock the house ♪ Ugh.

♪ You're better
than all the...♪ -

But just when it seemed
all hope was lost,

some was found
when their weakness

was discovered.

Ow, it burns!

Why am I not surprised
this is happening on a Monday?

Yes, it seems
holy water renders them

temporarily powerless.

All right, let's get to work.

As you know, I want nothing more

than to slay
my demon wife Bella,

but we can't k*ll her
until we find her.

Saltine, any luck figuring out
how Satan's Compass works?

Not yet. Its powers are
ancient and mysterious.

- We must proceed cautiously.
- Here, let me just shake it.

Careful, Rip.
We don't know how it works.

Guys. Stop fighting, you two.

Whoa!

- Quit moving it.
- I'm not.

It's moving on its own.
Wait a minute.

It's a planchette!

I can't believe this whole time
it was a planchette,

which is the name
for the pointer you use

with a Ouija board.

- We know what a planchette is.
- I know. I'm telling Fleety.

What the hell
is going on in here?

Good Lord, is that
some sort of planchette?

Agatha, quick,
unfurl a map of the world!

- The Earth world?
- Yes!

Unfurling.

Look. That must be where
the Antichrist and Uncle Christ

- are hiding.
- Hey, Saltine.

Remember when you were mad at me
for grabbing it,

but then that's what solved it?

Do you remember?

Saltine? Saltine?

'Member?

You remember?

You remember, Saltine?

Hey, what is it, mate?

I thought you'd be excited
for your first day

at your new secret society.

I thought it seemed cool
at first,

but I'm always getting invited
to fancy clubs like this.

They're filled with people
who only want my money.

I haven't a friend in the world.

That's not true.
I'm your friend.

- I pay you a lot of money.
- True, yeah.

But what about Buddy-Bot?
He's your friend.

I would even say
that we are besties.

I programmed him
to be my friend.

That doesn't count.

So I don't have free will.

That's world-shattering.

I used to think
woe is other people,

but no, woe is me.

God, a sad rich person
is really f*cking annoying.

Agreed.

Quail Eegan.

Welcome to the Council.

Hi, Billy Themet,
head of The Met.

Let's just cut to the chase.

- How much do you want?
- Want?

Oh, Quail, you misunderstand.

The Council is an assemblage

of elite museum owners
like yourself.

Everyone here
is already a billionaire.

So you don't want
anything from me?

No, no, no, you're here
because you're one of us.

Let me show you around.

♪ Here is our golf course
and pickleball court ♪

♪ And right over there's
where we hunt man for sport ♪

Good luck finding me.

♪ We know that life
can be stressful at times ♪

♪ So we've got a fixer
to cover your crimes ♪

What did you rascals
get up to this week?

- Blackmail.
- m*rder.

- Treason.
- I'm on it.

♪ And here's something
that I'd like to relay ♪

♪ The Watingos play
for us every day ♪

The Watingos?
I've never heard of them.

They're the greatest band
in the world,

and we've never allowed
normal people to hear them.

♪ Oh, baby, baby,
I love that purple dress.♪

Thank you very much.

Wow. They're f*cking amazing.

♪ And lastly some news
that's sure to delight ♪

♪ We have a huge Eyes Wide Shut
style masked orgy ♪

♪ Every night! ♪

Wow, they even have
well-positioned mannequins

to avoid an NC-17 rating.

Well, feel free to join in.

After all,
you're one of us now, friend.

Friend?

I mean, thanks, friend.

You sure you can do this, Rip?

Because if it's
too much for you,

I'll gladly slice
Bella's head off.

Uh, and claim
all the glory for yourself?

Nice try.

Trust me, I know
she's the Antichrist now

and there's no Bella left.

I will not hesitate
to decapitate.

Towards doing what's right
shall I gravitate.

Do not dubitate, Saltine.

For even if 'twould agitate

and make mine heart palpitate,

and though the demon
may jactitate

and vagitate--
that's a real word--

she cannot imitate, she with
whom I used to cohabitate.

And whence slain, the ghoul's
corpse shall crepitate,

and the celebratory ale we drink
shall be nippitate--

also a real word--
and that's no crap-itate--

not a real word but should be,
and I submitted it to Webster's.

Stay tuned on that one.

Look. There.

Okay, Swooper,
hit 'em with the holy water.

- Now, Rip! Finish them off!
- Gladly.

Time to send you back to hell.

All right, you got me.
I can't do it.

- Mwah.
- Oh, no.

What are you thinking, Rip?

You're keeping the Uncle Christ
and Antichrist alive?

Do you know how risky that is?

Au contraire.
As long as they're hooked up

to these holy water IVs,
they're completely powerless.

Which means
it's the perfect time

for us to chop their heads off.

I vote against that.

Not sure if I get a vote,
but that's my vote if I do.

Oh, shut up.

Your logic is flawless, Saltine,
but I can't just k*ll her.

I know Bella's alive
in there somewhere.

Isn't that right,
my pudding cup?

All right, well, admittedly,
that's not great,

but I've been doing
some research.

To the microfiche!

According to
a contested translation

of the Rituale Romanum,

you can only exorcise
an Antichrist

by bringing them to the site

of their human host's
happiest memory.

Thusly, if I just take Bella
to where she had

her happiest memory,
the Antichrist will disappear.

And what if something goes wrong
and they escape?

I'm on Saltine's side.

We should slice their heads off.

I'm on it.

No, no, wait!

Just give me a chance
to track down

Bella's happiest memory.

If she's still possessed
in, say,

a year, you can cut
her head off.

Fine, but you only get one week.

Wha... A mere
pauper's fortnight?

That's nary a score of days.

- Going once...
- Sold. g*dd*mn it!

Remember this place, my sweet?

It's where we first met.

Ow!

My many apologies.

Why don't you watch where you're
throwing that thing, you...

f*cking as*h*le

piece of sh*t f*ck face.

Isn't that
your happiest memory, Bella?

Meeting me here?

Okay, guess that wasn't it.

Then how about...

The site of our greatest honor.

Rip and Bella, for discovering

the horrific and sickening truth
about Johnny Appleseed,

I present you with this key
to the White House.

I've never been happier.

At least as of the time
that this is taking place.

It's possible that
between now and my death

I will have a happier moment.

Uh, honey, it will never matter
what your happiest memory is.

Stop telling me when it happens.

Oh, why the hell
did I say that to her?

All right, where to next?
Oh, I've got it!

The arena where Bella
hit a half-court shot

during halftime
to win a Toyota Tundra.

Hey, it's our old pal Blueberry.

Remember that, dear?

Holy crap!

That was like
a full hairy spider

that came out of her mouth!

Never thought
I would miss the barf,

but here we are.

No matter.
We still have six days.

I'll travel to the ends
of the Earth, if need be!

♪ Come on now. ♪

Not now, Blueberry.

Ooh. Ow.

All right, all right,

all right, all right, everyone.

I call this meeting
of the Council to order.

First, I want to welcome
Quail, our newest member.

Thank you. When I was first
invited to join the Council,

I was skeptical.

But I'm having
the time of my life.

Well, you should know,
the Council is more

than just a fun hang.

We are the heads of the world's
greatest museums.

The Louvre. The Egyptian Museum.

The American History Museum.

The U2 Museum in Dublin.

Wow. Do you have one
of The Edge's guitars?

No, we don't,
that's a good idea.

I'm gonna write that down.

And we're always
looking for ways

to increase our bottom lines.

So we've made a deal
with the pope.

He wants to exorcise
the Antichrist

and the Uncle Christ
in a live television special.

Wow. So I could get my dad back?

Yes, but only if we can
deliver the Antichrist

and the Uncle Christ
to the pope.

In exchange,
he has promised to send

the Sistine Chapel ceiling
on a worldwide tour

- of our museums.
- Ooh, très bon.

The Sistine Chapel ceiling?

That's the biggest attraction
on Earth.

But the issue is that we're
merely humble billionaires.

We have no idea
how to track down

these demonic fugitives.

Guys, my whole thing
is invading people's privacy!

I'll find them
before our next orgy.

Rocket boots, activate.

Ow, my f*cking head.

Cornelia, huh?
I think I'll swipe right.

How'd it go?

We went everywhere I could
think of and nothing worked.

I guess the translation
was just wrong.

It's not possible
to exorcise the Antichrist.

Maybe.

Or maybe Bella's happiest memory
wasn't some major event.

It was just some random little
moment you could never guess,

where she was
with the people she loved,

doing what she loved,

and all was right
with the world.

That is so cheesy, Swooper.

Get your brain waxed,
butt-cheese.

Well, I thought it was nice.

Well, that's it.

It has been
a pauper's fortnight.

I'll do the deed myself.

As the saying goes,
a man should k*ll his own wife.

You are a wonderful person.

I'm gonna just take a sec
to say goodbye in private.

I'll be right here
if you need anything.

Thanks, Saltine.
That means a lot.

Okay, chopping her head off now.

Marie Antoinette much?

Whoops!

It flew across the room
and landed in my toilet.

Party foul!

- Man, I really wish
I'd put down some tarp first.

There's blood
and offal everywhere.

But I'm going through with it,
no doubt about that.

Okay, time to move on
to the Uncle Christ.

Yowie, that must have been
the femoral artery.

I look like Carrie right now.

And there goes his head.

Right into Fleety's litter box.

Yow! I slipped in the blood
and sprained my coccyx.

Quail, what are you doing here?

I'm here for the Uncle
and Antichrist. Step aside.

You're too late, sweetie.

Rip's already chopped
their heads off.

And then he slipped
in their blood

- and sprained his coccyx.
- Papa!

Rip? You were tricking us?

What-what the hell
is Quail doing here?

I'm taking the Anti-
and Uncle Christ.

How did you even know
we have them?

One of your "friends"
sold you out.

Blueberry! How could you?

- Gentlemen.
- No!

I won't let you have my Bella!

I wasn't expecting you
to let me.

I'm just gonna do it.

I belong to no man.

Now die!

Okay, powers
aren't totally back yet.

sh**t her!

Bella, no!

Well, this place is trashed.

I knew I should've gotten
headquarters insurance.

But the premium is so high.

You know what I mean, Quail?

Okay, obviously this
is a bit of a setback,

but we can still track down
the Antichrist

- using the planchette.
- Bad news.

It's as busted as a nut.

Oh, that's a bummer,
but I do love how you said it.

Okay, I guess we'll just have
to find her another way.

And then... heads will roll.

Rip, you're clearly not capable
of k*lling the Antichrist.

When we find her, just leave
the beheading part to me.

I'll make sure
her head... is dead.

- Yeah, Saltine!
- You're so awesome.

Oh, dip. Looks like the pope
found another option.

Live from Vatican Square Garden,

it's the Uncle Christ
Exorcism Special.

Man, I can't believe
my dad's gonna be back soon.

I hope he's just
as withholding as ever.

Featuring six hours of Latin hymns

and a performance
by the Vatican City Dancers.

Ah, man. No jazz?

Along with three hours
of avant-garde jazz.

Spoke too soon.

Now please welcome your host,

His Holiness the Pope.

This just in.

The president has been kidnapped
by the Antichrist.

Sources say that, as a result,

the president's daughter is sad.

Here's footage of the abduction.

Yes, it looks like Rip Digman
is at fault for all of this.

Damn it!

That's my b-b-b-bad.

Like that song
"Bad to the Bone"?

What does that even mean, anyways?

We have a message
from the Antichrist.

Take a look.

My demand is simple.

Stop the exorcism
and release the Uncle Christ.

Otherwise
the president will die.

Wait a minute. Behind her.
Is that...

Corpus floraria.

Now, as you may have heard,

the Antichrist is holding

the president
of the United States hostage

and she's demanding
I cancel this exorcism.

But, uh, I don't negotiate
with t*rrorists.

So the time has come
to exorcise the Uncle Christ.

And there's only one way
to exorcise a demon.

You got to exe-cute him.

- ♪ Come on now. ♪
- Wait, what? -Oh, sh*t.

Tell that old Beelzebum
he's next.

Pope attack.

Papa!

Did you guys know about this?

- We did, yeah.
- Do you hate us?

It looks like
you're getting mad.

See, this is why
we didn't tell you.

This is unbelievable.

Damn it.

Time to die.

Yeehaw!

Bombs away!

Finally, six years
of sleepaway archery camp

for girls who got their periods
late pays off! -

- No!
- Hyah, whip and yank!

All right, Saltine.
Pope option's out,

so there's only
one thing left to do.

I'm sorry, Bella.

I wish I could have saved you.

What are you doing? k*ll her!

I... I can't.
What if there's a reason

the Antichrist came here
to the place where Bella died?

What do you mean?

You think Bella might actually
still be in there?

I do. And we should keep
searching for her happy memory.

We've got plenty of holy water.

Well, hell, you know I'm game.

Yeah! This is great!

- Oh, no,
it's one of those birds.

Do not peck the bag...

No! Not again!

What is the deal with the birds
in this geographical region?!

Oh, God, there's no time

to get another IV of holy water

before this one runs out!

You idiots. I can't believe
you're my constituents.

Run for it, Rip.
If you survive,

you can still find a way
to bring Bella back.

Don't worry about us.

No. I've put too many
people through hell

because I couldn't
accept the truth,

but the fact is,
Bella died many moons ago.

Now let's finish this
once and for all.

Oh, and one more thing.

Bella always said
that after she died,

she wanted to be... cremated.

No! I changed my mind!

Begone, foul demon!

I want an open casket...!

It's beautiful.

And yet not so beautiful
as you, love of my life,

keeper and tender-to
of my loins.

Have you seen Red Shrek?
It's-- Quail!

How... are you?

Are you mad at us still?

You're such a baddie.

Like, please don't be mad.

When I joined the Council,
I was so happy

because I'd finally
found my people.

But there was
always one problem.

Even though we were alike
in so many ways,

I worried that none of you...

...were quite as duplicitous
as me.

But by tricking me
into finding my own father

so you could decapitate him,

you guys proved that you're
exactly as devious as I am.

- Bring it in.
- Get over here,

- you little scamp.
- You rock, Quail.

I have found my people!

Guys, look!
The president's daughter is...

smiling!

Yes! Yes!

Hey, Rip.
I'm really sorry for your loss.

- I know it must be tough.
- Thank you, Saltine.

It's... pretty bad.
But you know what?

Ultimately, it's for the best.

I've been wallowing in grief
for too long, but no more.

It's time to live the life Bella
would have wanted me to live.

And rededicate myself
to archaeology!

I love that!

I'm talking about
unraveling mummies. -Yes!

I'm talking about yoinking vases

made by a certain little dynasty

that goes by the name of,

oh, I don't know,
ever hear of f*ck' Ming?

Slay, Rip, slay!

And I'm talking about having
a full-blown partner again.

It ain't gonna be easy,
but, Saltine,

I'm gonna train you to become
a full-on muh-f*ck' arky!

Oh, hell yeah!
You know I'm all about that!

Here, give me that whip.
Hyah, whip!

Hyah, whip! Ow, my goggles.

Okay.
Love the enthusiasm.

Maybe let's start
without the whip, though.

- Hyah, whip!
- Mm-hmm. Again.

Hyah, whip!

- Little weak.
- Hyah, whip!

- Not good.
- Hyah, whip!

Yeah, your wrist
is all over the road.

Chirp.

♪ MTV. ♪