Original subtitles

So lovelies, here we go.

Helmet cam on, LIDAR autofocus works.

Sound? All good.

Okay, fun part first, the legal statement.

It is March 8th, 2023, 7:00 a.m.

We are at 2003 Egelsau

near Stockerau, Lower Austria.

This contract for specialized tracking services

is entered into by and between the client,

Dr. Krystyna Szczepanska representing the IHUW,

Warsaw, Poland, and the contractor,

Relocator Europe, LLC,

represented by its founder and CEO, Gunner S. Holbrook.

And that's me...

Dr. Szczepanska, do you accept?

Yes, you are our truffle pig of choice, Gunner.

Indeed I am.

You know that's what they called me

in the army, Truff?

Of course I know.

You tell me every goddamn time

we work together.

Always a pleasure doing business with you, Krys.

Absolutely.

I mean, I am getting the friends and family discount.

These little piggies are my assistants, Kyle Edward Boll,

and my local contact, Richie Fischvogt.

Say cheese, Richie.

Ah, your positivity is infectious, guys.

Anyways, here is

all our fancy gear.

Calibrated, ready to rumble.

Getting there.

According to labor laws,

we are equipped with FFP3 masks

and protective suits.

The mold situation will most likely be a shitshow.

Hope we won't be huffing and puffing

and blow the house in...

This is my colleague, Magistra Cornelia Dunzinger,

University of Innsbruck.

We hired Mr. Holbrook and his team as experts

in tracking lost, hidden, and potentially fragile goods.

This is the farm of Wolfgang Zinggl,

a retired farmer who disappeared in 2014

at the age of 94.

No one knows what happened to him.

My name is Ernst Bartholdi.

I am the grandson of Mr. Zinggl.

I run a PR boutique in Vienna,

so I'm not here very frequently.

The story of the building and the story of my grandfather

is indeed strange.

He was very fit,

up until his 90s, actually.

But the last years of his life,

he became kookier and kookier, I would call it.

And, uh, one day he disappeared.

So we assume that he got lost doing a walk

in the nearby forests or swamps,

but his body was never found.

Of course, the locals

immediately started spreading ghost stories

or blaming the immigrants, as always.

According to Austrian law, he was declared dead

after five years at the end of 2019.

The remaining family took possession of the building,

but all was delayed

and nothing really happened

up until after the COVID pandemic.

I spent a lot of time here on the farm.

For example, here in the garden:

I built tree houses and things like that.

I really like the property.

I have the keys and, uh...

All right, masks up, final gear check.

Let's roll.

Hmm...

Ah, it's pretty sad

seeing it in this condition.

No power?

Yep. And no water or gas.

What a godawful shit of a fuck.

Oh, that's funny!

That's me and my mom.

Seems he was a popular guy...

but pretty messy.

Ah, that's him and me at my confirmation.

Yeah, as a recovering Catholic,

I can totally relate.

I got my first PC doing it.

Pretty good deal.

Did you ever talk

about politics to your grandparents?

No, that was never a big thing in my family.

We never had a big discussion about it,

especially not the war.

But there were always hints of something.

Just one example.

The first movie I ever saw in the cinema

was E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial.

I was seven years old and I went

with my grandma, Gerti.

That's her.

Of course, I loved it and she was also very impressed

and somewhat overwhelmed.

And she didn't know how to articulate it.

So after the film ended, she looked at me and she nodded.

"Spielberg.

"Hmm.

"Spielberg. Hmm.

A Jew. Yes."

And even as a kid, I found that very weird.

Here is some of the stuff

that I already discovered in the house.

Our family really wants to know what is

behind the secrets around my grandfather's past.

And we want to help reveal whatever he probably hid.

That's him.

I discovered it

in one of the drawers over there.

What we found out is that Mr. Zinggl

was stationed at the Nazi concentration camp,

Chelmno, German Kulmhof, near Lodz, Poland.

Chelmno was the first extermination camp.

It stands out in the history of the camps

because it served as a model.

They tested it all there.

They experimented.

For example, the use of gas vans.

They piped exhaust fumes, carbon monoxide,

into the enclosed vehicle through a special tube.

This way, they could cheaply kill 40 to 60 people at a time.

In Chelmno, they developed

the logistical framework for Auschwitz.

And Mr. Zinggl had a very active part in this.

That's his...

A postwar

veterans organization.

He kept it on his nightstand

until the very end.

Yeah, looks like he was into keeping souvenirs.

That's why we are here.

As part of Mr. Zinggl's job

at the concentration camp,

he seems to have stashed away

a bunch of documents

and he hid them in a box somewhere.

We think the box contains diaries

with priceless historic information.

What Zinggl has seen, done, collected

could be really important.

For example, there may be information

about some yet undiscovered mass graves.

This is important, as the Germans

forced Jewish prisoners to exhume and cremate

any remaining corpses from the mass graves,

effectively destroying evidence of mass murder operations.

But on paper, the ghosts have voices.

We are at the edge of the Danube flood plains.

It's humid as fuck.

Wow.

Oh, I smell something

through the mask.

Jesus, what the fuck?

Yeah, at some point in his early 90s,

he started collecting his urine.

He bottled it by calendar week.

Wait, that's an entire week's worth of piss?

Don't ask me.

All right, it's trophy trunk truffle time.

Let's turn this place upside down.

Sing us a song...

you're the piano man.

Hey, Boll,

that's something right up your alley.

The laxative with the smell of ripe bananas.

Cool.

Okay, I'm gonna check the courtyard.

Okay.

This door...

He would, uh, hang live pigs

on that door to castrate them.

Next to it, on the ground,

bunch of cats were waiting to grab a testicle.

They loved it, really.

Yeah.

What the fuck are you doing?

Hey, Fischvogt, if you really find that shit box

in that fucking hay, I'll buy you a Bacardi.

Yeah, I don't know.

Hey, Kyle!

Fifteen man on a dead man's chest.

Dead Nazi's.

Dead Nazi's...

...on a dead Nazi's chest.

Arr...

Oh, well...

Nothing important, nothing important.

Just talking about my relationship

to my grandfather.

And what can I say, it wasn't bad.

I mean, he was never... kinda like,

he didn't hit me or anything, so you know,

he was-- he was a nice guy.

Uh, but it was always clear whose brainchild he was.

And most of the time he couldn't really say

what he wanted to say, I suppose.

But every now and then he tried.

So he would say stuff like, "Oh, the evil zionists,"

because he knew he could say something like that.

Or "the poor Palestinians."

And then he would mumble in his beard,

something like, you know, like,

"Oh, if we only had six more months,

just six more months."

Yeah. Family.

Well...

Sorry.

It's all right.

Hmm.

Why didn't he wear his dentures

for his last walk in the woods?

Ah, never thought of that before.

That's my first artwork.

Uh...

What about the outhouse?

I can't remember a time

when we didn't have running water

here at the farm, but my grandpa never used

the toilet inside,

so he always went outside to the "Plumpsklo."

So...

...also had a fetish for latrines?

Okay.

Um, I think

this is a job for Fischvogt.

Yep.

-It's the Turd Reich. -Oh, come on.

Look-- Look at you guys.

Anyway, not a goddamn thing down there-- nada, zilch.

Grandpa kept it a secret,

but over the years,

he had been in contact with ultra right people

in Sweden, South America, the U.S., everywhere.

Unpleasant folks, as you can imagine.

Sometimes, I'd hear him...

...on the phone, arguing and cursing.

He believed that many had abandoned the cause,

thinking they were just into nostalgia

and Nazi souvenirs.

One of his favorite sayings was...

"You can't win a war with them."

Heh. Well...

in the end, he was so disappointed

that he shifted his energy to other things,

like alternative medicine and stuff.

Ah, well, we should also check out the basement.

Yeah, that's not creepy at all.

Oh, wow.

Could it be?

How is that...

So that's his other secret stash.

Fuck this.

Time for lunch.

How's life?

Well, busy.

Granada last autumn, now here, Estonia in June.

It's crazy.

Estonia, wow.

It's all one big Easter egg hunt, isn't it?

Yeah, you know.

Nazi boxes, Francoist gold, French war crimes on film,

all the same, right?

Just truffles.

Thanks.

Uh-huh.

Mr. Zinggl supposedly hid

some important Nazi documents from the war.

We are trying to find it, help the victims.

Wolfi, yeah,

was no Nazi, yeah?

Nazi. Him a Nazi, Nazi, Nazi.

Now wait, maybe he can help us.

Wouldn't the universities agree to a finder's fee?

Finder's fee? Good, good, good.

Yes, it can help, and help.

You know Columbo? You know?

I'm just trying to enjoy my lunch.

Scroll.

Wow.

Oh, wow.

You-- You didn't know about this?

Well, I don't have a key for that one...

Should I get the chainsaw?

Chainsaw?

Oh, that's bad! Oh, that's bad!

Oh, man.

Ah.

Krystyna, we'll both go first and scout it out.

Rest of you, stay put.

Wow, it's pretty big.

Ah, ah, shit.

I really should get a new flashlight.

Look at that.

Brown looks as dry as a desert.

Is the thing really working?

Yeah, Fischvogt calibrated it.

Humidity is almost zero.

Let's check out the tunnel.

Careful, ceiling's real low.

Can you hear that?

There's a draft coming out of the pipe.

That's unusual.

We might have found something.

It's wet.

Is that condensation?

I'm beginning to see a pattern here.

Come on, that's u--

That's useless, come on.

All right, I'm gonna go get some shovels.

She's digging with her hands.

I have to get some shovels.

What did you find?

Strange pipe. Could be

a hidden room down there, you never know.

Really?

I've seen weirder shit

in my line of work.

The fuck?

Krystyna, turn your flashlight on,

I can't see shit.

Krystyna.

Krystyna!

Hey.

Wh-- Hey, what--

What--what's the matter? What is it?

Come here, come over here.

Let me take a look at that.

Hey, hold on, just calm down, Krystyna.

Krystyna, wait. Wait a sec.

Stop. Wait, calm down.

Hey. Hey.

Whoa!

Mrs. Dunzinger, are you okay?

Fuck. Are you fucking kidding me?

Oh, my shit.

Oh, fucking hell.

Jesus... Fucking fu...

I like this spot.

The water is calm.

Ironically, heh, this is also the place

where they think Zinggl disappeared.

Last night I dreamt that he stared at me

out of the water.

...fucking wonder.

I spent all of yesterday looking through terabytes

of footage from March.

It's all documented, yet the more I watch it,

the more it feels like a nightmare.

It was three months ago, but it feels like...

I don't know, like it never happened.

But it did.

What happened to Krystyna is real.

What happened to poor Dunzinger is real.

What the whole thing did to me is real.

I started editing this video.

Please consider it a form of associative diary,

you know, a visual way to sort my memories.

So forgive me, but it won't pass

the Bechdel test.

Found some interesting music online,

and I use it as a backdrop for my journal.

I decided not to include footage

from the hospital,

and the first conversations

with Krystyna,

out of respect for her and her privacy.

What a shitshow.

Nice.

Krystyna couldn't properly speak,

had spasms, attacked hospital personnel.

She even tried to kill herself

by bashing her head against a mirror.

They restrained her and pumped her full of drugs.

Eh, that helped.

Her relatives brought her back to Poland.

We have a history.

So I visited her in Warsaw as often as I could,

and when I couldn't, I would call her.

Half the time, she's a vegetable.

A furious vegetable.

The whole case seriously affected my business.

The Estonia gig should happen in two weeks, fingers crossed.

It still isn't clear if they want to hire

me and my team.

Met Fischvogt in Vienna.

He's still keen on making it happen, I understand.

Gotta pay the bills.

I borrowed Fischvogt's car.

Told him I would return it after two days.

I use it as my hidden base camp.

I'm just a half a mile from Egelsau,

but nobody will look for me here.

Look at that.

Feels like walking into enemy territory.

Once a grunt, always a grunt.

Dunziger's relatives are trying to paint it all

as criminal negligence.

That fucker Bartholdi is siding with them.

I am not interested in going to prison

in fucking Schnitzelland.

- Gunner? - Yeah?

-Are you there? -Yes.

It's so dark.

I can't see you.

We're on the phone, Krystyna, just audio.

I'm at the house with the pipe.

Why weren't you at the train station?

What?

We wanted to meet there.

No. You're at home in Warsaw.

I'm back at Egelsau.

Ohh, how silly of me.

That asshole Weinhappl is outside.

He's always doing farmer shit.

The place is completely off limits.

Krystyna.

Yes.

I'm here now, yes.

I was scared.

I am scared, Gunner.

Can I record this conversation?

Okay, it's okay. Really.

Now, for the sake of finding out what happened to you,

just tell me again what happened.

What? Why?

I just need to make sense of it.

Let's talk about it.

You Americans

always want to talk.

I wanted to get away from the pipe.

From what I did.

Why? What did you do?

Horrible things.

Well, wait, you mean Dunzinger?

Bodies! Bodies everywhere.

I loved it.

It made me happy.

Wait. Yes, you didn't like her,

but it was an accident.

Bodies!

Wait, calm down, calm down.

The police didn't find anything.

I mean, they didn't really look, but--

A job well done.

No tattoos on the skin.

We didn't have to tattoo.

The vans took care of things quick,

and the helpful old man with the Jaeger pipe.

What was his name?

The way he would hold their babies

as they exit the train cars

and then sweet-talked them into the vans

like an old grandfather.

No need for tattoos, just white skin.

Body's like blank paper.

Like paperwork slipped into a file.

Oh, fuck.

I have to do my own research.

Boll usually does this.

He's way better at it.

It's like I have two left hands.

My motor skills are fucked.

Probably toxin.

Gas, Kuwait, Gulf War Syndrome.

It's a vertigo. I never got treated.

Ah, shit. Walked it off.

Jesus!

Eh?

Oh, Mr. Weinhappl.

Yeah...

I am Mr. Weinhappl.

And you?

You are Gunner Holbrook, right?

I filled a lot of forms when I was at the police

with your stupid name on it.

Yeah, yeah, sorry.

Where's Ernst?

He's not here.

He's not here? What?

He doesn't need to be here.

No, you need to understand, seriously.

Huh?

I'll call him immediately.

No, wait a second.

Wait-- Hold on.

- Holbrook! - Yeah.

What the hell are you doing?

I want to continue the search.

- The fuck? - This doesn't have

to involve you, understand?

Are you a moron?

Dunzinger died on my property!

I was there.

It fucking involves me, okay?

You told me to stand down,

but the mission isn't complete.

That's all this is.

No, no, you stay

the hell away, Holbrook!

And you, Holbrook, you leave now.

It's getting cold.

You know why? Huh?

You know them?

- Shit. - Come on.

Go, leave.

To quote Jimmy Buffett,

"My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus."

Nah.

What was Krystyna saying about tattoos and bodies?

That was strange.

When I was 19, I enlisted

and they shipped me to the desert,

and all my buddies got inked.

This Marine I knew, I can't remember his name,

from West Virginia had a tattoo on his side,

right out where anyone could see it,

of Elmer Fuds saying...

"Where did that wascally wabbit go?"

Rabbit tracks leading right to his asshole. Heh.

Stupid shit people do to stay alive, stay sane.

We are all dogs in God's hot car.

Fuck.

Weinhappl was in my dream last night.

I locked him in the back of a truck,

ran an exhaust pipe into the box,

and drove around till I killed him.

Fuck.

As a kid, I asked a priest

if dreams need confessing.

Now, this one would have topped the list.

Fuck me with a shovel.

I gotta stay frosty.

I need to wait this out.

Hey, Piggly Wiggly.

Hey man, it's been too long.

How are you, where are you?

I'm good, man. You?

Heh. You sound a little weird, you feeling okay?

Hiding in a fodder silo.

Sweet. I tried calling a few times, where you been?

Don't get me started.

How about Krystyna?

Ah, not good.

Fischvogt and I went to Dunzinger's funeral.

Yeah, he told me.

It was the day they moved Krystyna back to Warsaw,

so I couldn't attend.

Wait, are you two back together?

No, it's complicated.

You really like her, don't you?

Yeah, you know me, I always fall for the crazy one.

Heh, tell me about it.

Well, speaking of,

I'm actually dating Dunzinger's cousin.

What the fuck?

I know, right?

Her name's Edith, we met

at the funeral-- listen to this--

she gave me a B.J. at the wake,

so, uh, two ladies went down that day.

Jesus, Boll.

Right?

We just got back from Croatia.

Croatia?

Goddamn, the body on her.

Yeah, where are you now?

Ah, hell on earth, Frankfurt. You?

Have you talked to Bartholdi?

Fuck no.

Listen, would you

wanna help me finish this Egelsau mission?

What Egelsau mission, man? It's a bust.

You still owe me money for it. What about Estonia?

Yeah, sure, okay. Heh.

It's just, look, we barely even got started at Egelsau,

and it could be something major. Just doesn't feel right.

I know, man, but come on, the bitch died in there.

Okay, just a second. What?

- What the fuck is-- - No, no, I'm not talking

about her, it's just an American saying, okay.

Uh, okay, hold on, hold on.

Dude, I gotta call you back tomorrow, okay?

Um, uh, just try to get your shit together, yeah...

make Estonia happen, okay? Relax.

Binge Ted Lasso or someth-- I am talking!

I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Bye.

Hey, what the hell, man?

I need my fucking car! I told you, man!

I had to pay my uncle a cab!

What a fucktard.

That's what Pops

would have said: "What a fucktard." Heh.

When I was 13, he taught me how to hotwire cars.

We borrowed a car and went to Chuck E. Cheese,

best birthday ever, man.

First time I stole a car, like as an adult,

was in Bosnia.

Smelled like a ruptured pancreas.

The car, I mean.

And Bosnia.

You don't ask for permission or forgiveness,

you ask for oblivion.

Headlamp on.

Oh, hey, little friend.

At least someone calls this goddamn cellar home.

There you go, enjoy.

Okay, mousey, let's do this.

- Hey, Krystyna. - You're there.

Yeah, heh, you're calling me at the right moment.

The time is 23 minutes past midnight

on June 2nd, 2023.

I'm inserting the borescope into the pipe.

I have Dr. Krystyna Szczepanska with me on the phone,

to offer her expertise on any discoveries I may make.

Okay, the borescope is approximately

nine feet into the pipe.

This section here appears continuous

with the metal pipe at the access point.

Zinggl built this all by himself.

At his age, it must have taken months or years.

Calm down, Krystyna.

Okay, it's all good.

Holy shit!

There was a fucking eye.

He's here. It's him.

It is-- It's--it's gone.

But--but there is a hole where the eye was.

A cavity.

- There is water in it. - Don't touch it!

Taking a sample of the water.

Oh, God, I'm dizzy.

Fuck.

Shit.

I'm remembering something, Krystyna.

Strange memories.

When we came here with the team, to this fucking place,

was that really your first time here?

Yes. No.

Did you know about this place, Krystyna?

I don't know.

Please, tell me.

You know something.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't remember being there.

And you... And you... And...

And it all came back, and...

I'm scared! Don't you understand?

I'm not scared. I should be freaking out.

I mean... Jesus, but I'm not.

You lie.

I saw you and you are scared.

When?

When did you see me?

In the pipe.

What?

What time is it?

- What? - What time is it?

And the date?

It's 1:10 a.m. on 6/2/23. Why?

Listen to the historian!

I was hoping for Occam's razor.

A logical explanation like,

Weinhappl and Opa Zinggl

throwing some epic parties in the cellar.

Complete with Nazi age play,

golden showers, bottle fisting

and sucking a metric shit-ton of drugs

out of each other's holes.

All seeping into the ground, affecting us.

To be certain, I take a urine sample.

But I have it on video.

An eye is like a dam.

It's a floodgate.

If I close my eyes, I'm safe,

but I can't keep them closed forever.

Something always seeps in,

penetrating your mind, accumulating inside.

As a kid, when Pops

was still in his stoner days,

thanks to Vietnam,

he always said that water knows,

that water has a memory.

What can I say?

He drowned in a jacuzzi.

I wonder what the water knew about him

after he emptied his bowels into it.

Holbrook family tragedies aside,

maybe he was right after all.

All right, little Mario going down the pipe,

all for his princess.

Oh, geez, what the hell, that's weird.

That was almost effortless.

Little princess just squirted.

Uh-huh.

Is this even pure water?

Does it contain chemicals, bacteria?

Let's see what it does when you boil it.

If you told Wolfgang Zinggl to stop killing Jews,

he'd think you were the one in the wrong.

I never felt that way about what I did

for the good old U.S. of A, you know?

If you're a goomba, then Mario is a mass murderer.

Freakin' Mario, with his little side eye

as he goes down the pipe. Shade.

Hmm, nothing, just water.

Next step, freezing it.

For lack of a better idea, I'll do it at the supermarket.

What are you doing?

Stay away from the water, Gunner!

Please, please listen to me.

Don't touch it!

What do I do with you, pipe squirt?

Do you remember when we first met

at the job in Germany?

Of course I do.

What a lovely weekend.

Right after, you needed to go to Florida.

You sent me a video from the motel you stayed at.

You were totally excited

about the stupid Waffle House slippers you got.

You thought the Waffle House was a strip club.

That was funny.

I sent you a message that I missed you.

You jumped on a plane and came to me, just like that.

It was a great time.

It was... We had the best time.

Focus on that and come to me right now.

Stop what you are doing in that awful cellar.

Stop now!

We can meet at the train station.

What train station?

The train station!

Why--why--why didn't you come to the train station?

What was that? What are you doing?

- I have a theory. - What theory?

Gunner, there's no theory.

Or call it a gut feeling, that's what it is.

Either I'm right

or I'm going out of my fucking head.

Listen to me, the water is bad.

Gunner, Gunner, empty it out.

Come back here.

I need my little truffle pig.

There's things you don't know about me, Krystyna.

If you really knew me, you'd be scared.

I have to do this.

Please, please don't.

You have to fight it.

I'm fighting!

You can too.

This is it.

This is the truffle, Krystyna.

I thought that it would taste horrible,

but no, it tastes salty, like tears.

You are so lost, little piggy.

Constipated little piggy.

Am I right?

Idiot!

Where is my car? Where is my car?

Where is my fucking car?

Where is my fucking...car?

In the forest, you fuckhead.

Where are my keys?

Fuck you. Fuck. Fuck.

You stole my car.

You fucked up the Estonia job.

Look at you.

Is this Krystyna? This poor woman?

Leave her alone.

I'm still here, my poor little baby.

Do you know what I don't like?

Sitting in the sun and drinking an iced latte

with my girlfriend and getting a phone call

that you're still trespassing on my property!

The fuck?

I want you out of here! You are a pest!

Hey now, calm down.

It's okay to share your playhouse.

I understand how you feel, but it's important

to learn how to share and play nicely with others.

Go!

I know it is tough, but sharing

is an important part of growing up.

Why don't we talk to those kids, eh?

And see if you can all have fun together.

I will call the police!

Don't you say? What about I tell them

what happened to my...

Huh?

you found it in the piano,

where I hid it.

You sold it

to those treacherous cocksuckers

in Uruguay for thousands of schillings,

to waste on your degenerate excuse of a company.

Look at you and your...

Do we understand each other?

I think we do.

Why don't you let Mr. Holbrook

play in your playhouse?

He needs a place to work and rest.

My container?

The playhouse.

-Yes? -No.

Ernsti!

Okay. But no words about Uruguay.

What the...? Wait. Oh, God.

Uruguay? What about Uruguay?

Are you mocking me, you fucker?

You can stay in the container, yeah,

but don't touch the Lancia!

Hmph.

In case you need anything,

yeah, I have Telegram, eh.

What the hell just happened to me?

I am dead tired.

You can rest later, soldier.

I need you to pay me a visit.

The fuck am I doing?

Friend, hey, hello, hello.

Hey, hey, where are your clothes, huh?

What is this?

Hey, Holbrook...

Hey, Holbrook! Holbrook!

What did you do to my car?

These are my new Adidas.

Are you diabetes, huh?

Ahh...

Wasser.

Go down. Go down. Cool down.

Cool down. Come, go, Holbrook. Cool down.

I need to cleanse myself.

This water doesn't cleanse.

It burns.

Ugh!

Listen, Holbrook...

And you wash yourself, you clean yourself.

We wanted to meet at the train station.

God then said, "What have you done?

"Your brother's blood

"cries out to me from the ground.

"Now you are banned

"from the ground.

"It's bad to receive

your brother's blood from your hand."

Discovered a fresh trail to Zinggl's farmhouse.

When I checked the helmet footage,

I realized it was me who did that.

In the dead of night.

It's all a bit of a blur here

in my little house on the prairie.

Did I really get a booty call from the pipe?

Puke blood?

Mutilate myself?

Hell, I even got hemorrhoids.

Maybe I should not have drunk the water.

Or maybe it is Gulf War Syndrome biting my ass again.

And what about that stuff I told Bartholdi?

I cannot confirm any of the shit I babbled.

Bartholdi has a lucrative snowflake business.

Does PR for renewable energy and some lefty NGOs,

even spear-headed a major campaign

for the Austrian Green Party.

But why do I know of Nueva Alemania?

He never mentioned it.

Why do I know the names of the guys who run it?

I need facts.

And rest.

I had a hunch.

I remembered something.

So I checked the car.

And I found this.

A hidden letter in the pipe.

"You sold it to those treacherous cocksuckers

in Uruguay!"

Bartholdi.

That fucker.

I found proof.

But it seems the memories dissolve.

I need to solidify them.

Don't worry.

But it is key to move into the cellar.

Plus, it's gonna be the bong room I never had.

Heh. You know, Pop's basement...

...minus Pops.

My entrenchment tool.

I should probably ditch it.

Military puns are the worst.

After my stint in Kuwait,

my little strategic transfer of equipment,

I got a dishonorable discharge

and a lousy parting gift from my buddies.

I was only 20.

The army washed their hands of me.

I wasn't finished fighting.

So off to Bosnia I went,

where the Croatians were hiring mercenaries.

And people hiring mercenaries

aren't the most discerning employers.

There was this merc,

Quarnstrom,

a neo-Nazi from Norway.

He'd blast Burzum, all day every day.

We were approaching this house,

a peaceful farmhouse,

much like here.

It was summertime, windows open,

no sign of conflict nearby.

Suddenly the fucker lobs a grenade through the window.

Chaos ensues, women screaming...

a baby crying.

He strides in,

gunfire erupts,

and that baby,

it just...popped,

turned inside out.

Moments later,

he strolls out,

unfazed, as if nothing had occurred.

Weinhappl is a supportive fella.

I brought you some cookies.

- Oh. - They are from my wife.

Thank you. What do I owe you?

Owe you? You want to insult me, or what? Huh?

You are my new neighbor.

I was a little bit worried

after your, uh, striptease

and how you behaved in the woods,

about your blood sugar level.

Weinhappl would be amazed

how many times I fucked around

without finding a single thing out.

Lost count of how many people I killed.

But none were under 13.

Fucking Bosnia!

It's okay, little buddy.

We're in this together.

For the record:

I am peeing less and less,

and I haven't taken a dump in several days.

Should get some of Zinggl's banana pills. Heh.

I discovered a plastic bag

with Zinggl's neatly folded clothes,

buried in the dirt.

A supermarket receipt from the week he vanished

was in one of the pockets.

So, as I see it, in late 2014,

he left home, without his false teeth,

arrived here, undressed,

buried his clothes in the cellar,

and then...

The fuck?

Shit.

Oh! Shit.

Whoa! Jesus.

Hey, Holbrook...

Hmm. How are you?

Shut up and listen.

I want you out of my cellar.

I want you out of my business.

But first, you give me whatever video footage you've got.

It's mine. Understand?

Afraid I can't do that.

Can't do?

I tell you what you can't do.

Stop fucking up my life.

This whole Nazi box thing

should have been a PR stunt for me, for my company.

Fuck. To stick it

to Magic Margarine, my competitors.

They organized this Anne Frank thing, yeah?

They hired B-list celebrities

to read the book in a podcast.

How fucking lame is that?

And they won the CCA Golden Award for it!

The what?

The CCA Gold Award,

the Creative Club Austria Gold Award!

I want one, too,

with something really cool,

with real historians, yeah.

With a real treasure hunt, yeah.

That's failing,

but also so tragic.

Easy, peasy, wonderful.

But it turned into a shit fest.

That fucking bitch that died.

That is bad storytelling.

And you found out about Uruguay.

Hand me over the footage,

and I'll fix it in post.

Nope.

I know stuff about you.

I know--woah...

Kuwait!

Yeah? So what?

Stealing water.

That's right, my squad

was in the fucking desert.

So yeah, I stole water.

Dishonorable discharge.

And then,

Bosnia!

War crimes.

Now that's just rude.

I'll put your ass

on fucking Wikipedia,

you criminal, with citations!

I have enough dirt on you

to convince that girlfriend

of yours, Krystyna.

- Come again? - Warsaw is...

just a six hour drive.

Right. In your Tesla.

That's like what, 20 charges?

I will ruin you.

You will be working at fucking Subway!

A true sandwich artist.

Look.

I think the physiognomy of my fingers is changing.

Sometimes they're thick, almost swollen.

Other times they're unnaturally thin.

My skin is tight.

I also lost 30 pounds.

Maybe it's part of the water cycle down here.

Hmm?

You are fucking crazy!

- I'm not leaving. - Big mistake.

You know what Bartholdi?

Fuck you!

You want war crimes?

I'll show you war crimes.

Ernsti, you were always...

Little friend?

Yes, I know.

You heard what the mean man Bartholdi said about me.

Oh, okay. Thank you.

You don't tell anyone

about my little indiscretions

and I won't tell them

about the bubonic plague.

Deal?

Deal.

♪ I spied a young cowboy

I need to map this out.

Dead end.

Oh, my back. Ugh.

Oh!

Krystyna, call me back.

I've sent you numbers in a text.

I dreamt I tattooed them on a kid with a rusty nail.

It cried, spat foam, but I persisted.

Does this mean anything to you?

Oh, God.

Need a smoke.

The Danube isn't blue.

It's shit brown.

Where are you?

I waited for you at the train station.

Listen, I'm getting closer.

Did you check the numbers I texted you?

Is it true, Gunner?

Did you hurt those people in Bosnia?

Uh, no. I...

Yes, I killed people.

They paid me, and I killed...

Most of them were soldiers.

Most?

It's like you said:

bodies.

What are you talking about?

You have to get out of there, now!

Gunner!

Gunner, answer me please!

Gunner.

Gunner, there's someone at the door.

Surprise, Krystyna!

Bartholdi! You slime wanker.

My little kid-killing war criminal.

Gunner! Gunner!

"Gunner! Gunner! Gunner!"

Gunner, you know exactly what I want.

I want your compliance!

Never! No!

Krystyna, are you okay?

Leave the past where it is!

You really think you can get away with this?

Threatening her like that?

Who is going to believe you? Huh?

Look at you!

Munchkin Mangler at Lady Mongo!

I did a poster campaign for Amnesty International!

Eh, he's too chicken shit.

He won't harm you, Krystyna.

Don't bet on it, Krystyna!

This disrespect has to end!

Or I will make it hurt.

When I first touched the pipe...

...it was too much!

Shut up!

And suddenly, I--

I was the one who did it!

My--my hands, my thoughts,

were his hands, his thoughts!

Shut up!

It broke me,

but--but maybe you can handle it.

You cunt!

Ernsti!

You wouldn't have been able

to kill a single Jew!

Not even a kid!

You are not my blood!

There is no bottom.

No bottom to what people do to one another.

We are all in deep water.

Yes?

They used human remains as fertilizer

in the SS vegetable garden.

Nutrients and water make life.

Storm, storm, storm!

The hell?

Hey, hey, hey, stop playing around.

I brought you some cookies.

The greatest traitor

is the Holocaust denier!

He insults the cunning of the German people...

Eat your cookies, man. Okay?

Eat your cookies.

This URL is way too long.

Some German words are so long,

they have perspective.

Enough daydreaming...

Huh?

Bring me your pet.

I'd like to clarify some things.

Oh, okay.

Okay, mousy.

Let's do this.

I'm impressed.

That's my boy.

What the hell!

What is it?

I am doing important research here!

I know.

I just wanted to let you know

the number you gave me,

it's a geolocation

in the forest near Chelmno.

Yes, and that is why

you distract me...

That's where we buried

a bunch of those rats.

So, it's a mass grave?

Mass grave? It's small. Just a few.

Not worthy of the title "mass grave."

Oh, my God! We never discovered it!

It will never be discovered!

Gunner, we never could have done this without you.

How are you?

I am fine.

I can take a punch in the face.

That asshole.

Bartholdi promised to come back, if you don't leave.

But I'm done being afraid.

I'm only worried for you.

We meet at the train station.

She does not understand

the magnitude of our dedication.

The aryanization, the robbery, the forced labor,

all of that barely covered the cost of the logistics.

The trains that we used to transport Jews

from the farthest corners of Europe,

could have been used in the war effort.

We sacrificed our tactical advantage,

favoring the Jews' eradication over our own survival.

Before the Holocaust, nations were thought

to prioritize their own survival.

Auschwitz shattered that belief.

We left an indelible mark.

A testament!

What...

What is happening to me?

Yes! Yes!

I will fucking feed you!

Cheers.

Ah, ha ha. Yeah.

Don't like your own brand, do you?

You poured gallons and gallons down there,

drenching this place with your filth!

Okay. No. No gas! No. No.

Let me get something for you, comrade.

Isn't it?

You, you waited years

for this, didn't you?

Bastard likes it.

Nya! Nya, nya, nya!

Don't give him what he wants.

You don't understand.

That's how we control him.

Nya, nya, nya, nya!

The woods, the water.

Woods to hide in, water to wash

the scent off so the hounds can't find us.

Krystyna!

Wash it off,

then come to the train station.

It's our only way out.

I will be able to stay here, study him.

I will get you out. I promise.

Ha! You promise?

You lie all the time, damned whore.

Whore! Like my Gerti.

Couldn't wait to fuck the tailor

while I did my holy duty, in the East.

This is all fucked up.

I'm itching like crazy.

My legs are numb, and I have acid reflux

like a fucking possum died in my throat.

I'm not your butler!

Can't you see what I'm dealing with?

Oh, you don't say.

Yeah, life is hard.

My life wasn't that easy, Wolfgang.

After Bosnia, I was breaking down.

Never learned how to deal with what I saw,

and did,

just ecstasy and Happy Hardcore.

You know, Eurodance?

I did weird jobs, wandered around Europe,

even worked on a cruise ship before I started my company.

And then I met... Krystyna.

Do not call her that!

I am not debating my dating life with a liquefied Nazi!

Stop haunting her, or I will walk away!

Oh, yeah? What's behind the barrel?

Shit.

One goddamn place I didn't check.

So what?

You want to hear how clever you are?

I don't care, you piss-guzzler.

So you found DIY instructions to become...this?

Living muck?

Well, hallelujah...

You made your decision.

I can't recall ever asking for any of this.

Do you know what? I really want to know...

How can you live with what you did to those people?

I am eternal, American!

You think I want to do that?

Living with my shitty past forever?

No way.

If I could press a button and erase my past,

I would do it.

I am not you.

No! I am not you!

Put it in me...

and I will show you.

The fuck is this, Zinggl?

You are part of me now. Ha-ha.

We are part of the water.

Fuck!

That's it, Sludge.

Game over.

Fuck you!

Ah, you, fuck you!

Ha! We became one

and still you want to destroy me?

What do you want? No! No!

This is insane!

You can't threaten me.

I am my own worst enemy.

You are the family I never had.

Water is thicker than blood.

This is your home now.

The day before he drowned, Pops forwarded me

this inspirational quote.

I put it on his gravestone.

"All life is a rebellion against faith."

You can throw all the tantrums you want.

- I don't think

I'm going to make it to the train station.

But I will make myself useful.

I need to check some boxes.

Zinggl, whatever you did,

it doesn't mean squat.

You are forever, but no one cares.

No one even knows.

Come on, you are proud of what you did.

Tell me everything, Opa.

Ah, that's it. Tell me about the camp.

Tell me what you hid.

What else? Yeah?

Yes? Come on. And?

Where? Good. Good.

Proud soldier!

Tell me what no one but you knows.

On paper, they have voices.

I...

I am running out of time.

And I know you're looking forward to it, you bastard.

Let's make this count.

Tell me about your neo-Nazi comrades.

That ass-cancer of your grandson told me you broke with them?

Oh, wow.

That's strong language, even for you.

You want to teach those losers a lesson, hmm?

I can help.

Slow down. Slow down.

I--I--I hunt and peck, you know.

Uh-huh.

And those backstabbers from Uruguay?

You can't win a war with those traitors.

If there's one thing I learned in Kuwait,

it's how to write reports for government officials.

Not the freshest pile of excrement,

but still enough for a successful

German shit-porn in jail.

Who are you?

Ah, Mr. Haneke.

Heil Hitler.

Are you with Zinggl?

Thought that old fart is dead!

He remembers you well, yeah.

What is this shit you sent us? Do you want money...

Save it for your lawyer.

Do you know who you're

fucking with, you rat?

You fucking fagboy!

You'll pay for this! You are history!

We will liquidate you!

And last but not least:

little Ernsti.

Almost done, bastard.

Yeah, I am exhausted.

Oh, shit.

Why can't people just send me a text?

Well, if it isn't the highlight of my day.

Fuck you! Where is she?

She's not in her apartment!

I think she stole my Tesla!

Hey, finally some good news.

Did you know many Jews

buried photographs of mementos in the earth,

so they might hopefully be found after the war?

The earth will protect it, they said.

And hopefully the water will not get to it.

Blah, blah, blah!

Thanks to you, I got to spend

my last moments doing PR work.

What could be worse? Check your email.

What? What is it?

My first press release. Full of truffles.

Wait, wait. Wait, wait.

I... I...

I seem to have sprung a leak.

Shit.

Tempting...

There are no such things as curses.

Only people and their decisions.

Gunner! Gunner!

Wait, you picked

an interesting time to drop by.

Gunner...

You look stunning...

I...on the contrary, have a hard time

keeping it together.

We went to hell and back.

Huh?

But we were on different trains...

Are you sure this is the right spot?

Yeah. That's the address from the email.

This weirdo farmer next door confirmed it.

Told us some crazy stuff.

Gave us some cookies.

All right, then. You go first.

Can't see shit.

What the hell is that stench?

Oh dear, does the scent

displease you, my lady?

Search the fucking place, you fucking fuckface!