All language subtitles for MILLENNIUM - S02 E21 - Somehow, Satan Got Behind Me (576p - DVDRip)

(alarm blares, dog barks)

(Wash)

(93! Yowls)

(oacophofiy)

What the hell...?

Huh.

(knocks on counter) Hey, kid.

Coffee and an apple fritter.

I'm just brewing up a fresh pot, sir,
and the apple fritters need to cool down.

Kid, if I wanted your life story,
I would have bought the book.

Coffee and an
apple fritter, now!

Sir, they're not ready just
yet. I have some decaf brewed.

Why would I, or anybody in their
right mind, voluntarily drink decaf, huh?

All right, tell me
when it's ready.

And make it snappy, kid. Some
of us actually work for a living.

Every morning the
same thing. Bitter old fart!

Well, he wants bitter,

I'll give him bitter.

I ask you, whatever happened
to "The customer's always right"?

- That went out with automate.
- Yeah, you're livin' in the past, daddio.

What's the matter with
you? Something wrong?

Sort of. I have this...

Whoa! I didn't say
anything about sharing.

Sir? Your order's ready.

Thank you.

Huh!

Hey! This fritter isn't
cooled down enough yet.

Dammit!

Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but, I tell
you, things didn't used to be this way.

Oh.

Aaaah!

- Burn your tongue?
- No.

That kid peed in my coffee.

He-he!

(laughs)

(all laugh raucously)

Anyone care to make a little
wager on the big fight tonight?

Does boxing still have that
standing eight-count rule?

- Yeah.
- Might as well be watching a pillow fight.

I lost all interest in the sweet science
when Kid McCoy retired from the ring.

- The real McCoy.
- Who?

World middleweight champion and
inventor of the infamous corkscrew punch.

Would tear the flesh
right off his opponents.

He was also convicted
of killing his married

lover and shooting
three other people.

I still love that line
in his suicide note.

"I can't endure this world's
madness any longer."

A fighter and a
philosopher, huh?

But that's exactly what's missing
from this bland day and age.

Personalities, characters,

individuals with an
inspirational flare.

For example, a while back I was out
wandering on the old country highway.

I was just looking
for... I don't know,

a new sort of titillation.

But all I found was
the same old thing.

What you doin' here by
your lonesome, old-timer?

Waif in' for a ride.

Yeah'? You been waif in' hug'?

So many cars
passed by, I lost count.

People are reluctant to pick
up hitchhikers these days.

In ancient times the Greeks
always had to help vagabonds

because they never knew if the beggar
might be one of their gods in disguise.

Nowadays, it just seems safer to
assume that every stranger is a devil.

Could be a serial
killer, or worse.

So how do you know I'm not?

You didn't strike me as
the serial-killer type, pops!

- You're an expert on serial killers?
- No. I'm not an expert or anything,

but I do spend a lot of time
reading true-crime books.

(all) Ah! True-crime books!

- (laugh) Yeah'.
- Exactly!

Well, you see where
this story is headed.

As it turned out, the kid not only
had an interest in serial killers,

he once made contact with one.

This was made in
prison by Johnnie Mack

Potter, the most prolific
murderer in America.

He was convicted
of killing 36 people.

How'd you get a hold of that?

Well, he used to be the janitor and mascot
at my school, Roosevelt High Red Devils.

He was caught the year before
I attended, so I never met him,

but every day I'd walk
down those hallways,

I couldn't help but think to myself
"Wow! A serial killer once cleaned these."

- "Wow" is right!
- So I wrote to him in prison.

He sent me this devil dohickey.

Oh, but here I am probably
boring you with all this killer talk.

That's Johnnie Mack Potter in his old
mascot uniform. How'd you get that?

I'm a murder-memorabilia
collector myself.

You know, it's kinda neat to be
able to talk to someone about this stuff

and not feel like a sicko.

Perry, why do you think you possess this
morbid fascination with serial killers?

Well, I'll be honest
with ya, I don't know.

It's nothing to do with the fact that
you possess so many characteristics

of the prototypical
serial killer?

- What?
- White, male in his 20s.

The product of a broken
home who spent his

youth starting fires
andlor torturing animals.

An early addiction to
drugs and/or alcohol.

An inability to hold a steady
job or relationship with women.

Dreaming about turning your masochistic
mutilation sex fantasies into reality,

to say nothing of the
fact you drive a van

and keep duct tape in
your glove compartment.

How the hell did...? What
are you trying to tell me?

Play the hand you've been dealt.

Good lord! Don't tell
me that's all it took!

You know, we were so envious
when Man was given free will,

but what has it brought them?

The belief that life's determined by
everything other than their own will.

And the right to vote.

Uh-huh.

Wait a minute. I'm confused. The
man became a serial killer because...?

Yes. Just because.

His first victim was a
prostitute, as was to be expected.

I was concerned that his initial
reaction was a tad over-sensitive.

- (retches)
- Don't worry. It's like your first beer.

You get used to it and eventually
life doesn't seem as good without it.

I wanna become the most prolific serial
killer in the history of this country.

He didn't want to be the most
colourful killer or the most weird.

He just wanted to break
Johnnie Mack Potter's record.

Quantity not quality. Hah.

His "originality" was prostitutes.
He killed another one that very night.

- Then it was prostitute after prostitute.
- Been there. Done that.

One night I did manage to inject
some irony into his blandness.

I talked him into attacking a
self-proclaimed devil worshipper.

Satan!

Save me!

Satan, save me please!

No! Satan!

Save me!

"Satan, save me!"

Yeah. I bet there was no
divine intervention there, huh?

Unfortunately, that very next night
he was right back to prostitutes.

So cliched was this guy that he
often returned to the scene of the crime

because, you know, that's
what killers supposedly do.

(Perry) Looks like
they found number 36.

One more and I top Johnnie Mack Potter.
Then I become the serial killing champ.

Maybe you should
get T-shirts printed up.

(chatter over police radios)

Wait a minute. What
did this man look like?

I know how terrible this'll sound,
but they all look the same to me.

Oh!

But I swear to God this man reacted
like he had glimpsed my true essence.

Impossible! It's
not in their nature.

All right, so my
story's a little out there.

Go with it.

In any case, having
seen this weird guy,

being so bored with my killer,
I figured enough was enough.

After they got the fingerprints
off it, it didn't take them long.

- Freeze!
- Hold it right there!

Mr Blerick!

Of course, I was
nowhere to be found!

Later he told the police that I was
the one responsible for the murders!

They're always blaming others.

The criminal psychologist deduced that the
elderly hitchhiker didn't actually exist.

It was merely one segment
of the killer's split personality!

So after some time had passed,
and I felt it was the right time,

I sent my killer companion
a friendly little note of advice.

- Did he do it?
- He gave it the old college try.

Too bad he had
never gone to college.

But then it was all for nothing, wasn't
it? You didn't achieve total closure.

Well, it's my attitude that sometimes
you have to sacrifice self-satisfaction

for a sense of poetic justice.

And that, my friend, is why
Johnnie Mack Potter remains

the reigning, and still
undisputed, serial killing champion.

(Pinging tone)

- Hello? Is this the Helm residence?
- (man) Uh, yes, it is.

- May I please speak to Mr Helm?
- This is him. What's the matter?

Nothing, unless you're being overcharged
by your long-distance phone company.

May I ask which
current service you use?

What? What time is it?

It's time to start saving over
30% on your long-distance calls.

Now, if you'll
sign up with us...

(hangs up)

Ha-ha-ha! Ha!

I don't like working
with serial killers. If

they get caught, they
end up on death row,

which is the only place where
humans can still find God.

The trouble with serial
killers is they're too evil.

- Hey, if you're afraid of 'em.
- That's not what I meant, and you know it.

- What did you mean?
- Their evil is too conspicuous.

When people hear
about psycho killers it can

lead them to thinking
about the nature of evil,

which leads to thoughts
about right or wrong.

That thinking can get ugly.

You don't want 'em
considering crap like that.

You just want 'em to go through
the routine of living their lives.

And what do you
do to gut their souls?

I don't do squat any more.

- They do it all for ya.
- I'm not sure I'm following.

Mankind has progressed to
a point in its dim-witted history

where life has been
drained of all its enchantment.

All you've gotta do
is sit back and enjoy.

(chuckles)

(milling)

I mean, Iask you, what evil
genius invented the alarm clock?

No other creature but man could
concoct a device that interrupts, daily,

their only natural
state of happiness.

(milling)

(milling)

And no doubt the evil genius's evil
twin contributed the snooze button.

(milling)

Oh, boy!

- I beg you!
- Other human instruments of torture,

the rack, the iron maiden, are
no match for their modem version.

Stop!

Used in a regiment of
self-inflicted suffering,

all in the name of
vanity and rock-hard abs.

(wheezes)

Ow. Ow.

Their efforts to distance
themselves from their animal natures

only show what dumb
beasts they truly are.

Ow. Ow. Ow.

Required to cover
their God-given bodies,

they also tie a superfluous constricting
piece of cloth around their necks

for no reason whatsoever.

I fail to see how any of this
leads them to eternal damnation.

They fail to see it too because they think
they're livin' a so-called normal life.

You have no idea
the torments they'll put

themselves through for
the sake of such a life.

They'll spend a third of every
day at a place they can't stand

doin' stuff they don't want to do,
all in the name of earning a living.

I've seen punishments
in hell less severe.

When not at work, their free time is spent
in servitude performing menial chores,

none of which could
be called life-affirming.

As a wise devil once said,

"All roads to hell lead through
coin-operated Laundromats."

You seem to be forgetting one little
thing in this method of yours - sin.

I choose to forget it.

- Because humans have as well.
- Oh, brother!

I don't mean they stop
committing sins. Just the opposite.

(y dame)

They sin so when, it's just
become another part of their routine.

Whatever passion compelled them to commit
such acts has long since passed away.

(monotone) Yeah. Go, baby.

Go.

Do it.

Shake that thing.

Yeah. Yahoo.

Do it.

Take it off.

Take it all off.

Do it.

Do it.

Even their less-guilty pleasures
are less than pleasures.

(TVOfi)

Um... Am I missing something?

Yeah. Having him fall
asleep is not the same

as having him fall
into the fiery pits of hell.

How can you ruin them if
you don't interact with them?

Oh, every once in a while I interact
with them, but nothing too evil.

Minor irritations
are all you need.

And I find, the best irritations
utilise their own man-made laws.

(chuckles)

- Hey, I just parked there.
- Ah! Tell it to the judge!

Hey! What's with this ticket?
The meter hasn't even run out.

Oh!

The same guy that saw Blerick?

No. He wasn't reacting
to my inner essence.

All humans look horrified when
confronting an authority figure.

- Hey, did this guy look depressed?
- Why?

I read an article about people using
St John's wort to cure depression.

In the Middle Ages, humans
used it and claimed to see devils.

Ah! Old wives' tales!

Still... Does this guy look like he
might be using this St John's wort?

He looks like he
needed a vat of the stuff.

It doesn't matter what they take.
It's not in their nature to see us.

Yeah, you don't even
know how to damn them.

I just told you.

You simply let them go through the routine
of living their lives as they see fit.

Until they realise

their lives are unfit to live.

It never ceases to
amuse me how these idiots

only learn to appreciate
the freedom of life

just when they're taking it,

and just before
they hit pay dirt.

Arab!

Well, if you ask me, subtlety
is for closet homosexuals.

What's that crack
supposed to mean?

I just find your laissez-faire style as
lame as the souls you're destroying.

Why be a devil if you
can't have a little fun?

I'm familiar with your methods,
and I find them crass and unpoetic.

Yeah, like an atom bomb.

That's another plus with my
technique - mass damnation.

I just did a job that damaged
millions of souls with one big shebang.

How'?

Simply by using the instruments Satan
himself created for that very purpose.

Crap.

On page seven, your use of the word "crap"
is unacceptable to broadcast standards.

No, it is acceptable to use "crap"
only when not referring to defecation.

No, the use of "defecation"
is not acceptable either.

We suggest that you do not describe
it and simply cut the scene entirely.

That word is
completely unacceptable.

Oh, you were reacting,
not suggesting. I see.

Well, my next objection
begins on page eight...

Now, every network has a censor,
a guardian of moral rectitude,

whose job is to ensure the viewing public
is not corrupted by scenes of sex, violence

or any other
miscellaneous vulgarity.

No, it doesn't matter that
aliens have no genitalia.

They still have groins and they shouldn't
be kicked there. It is unacceptable.

Jeez, that sounds
like a crappy job.

Imagine the weight
they must bear,

the burden of maintaining a
nation's morality on your shoulders?

It's just TV!

Ah, but you're forgetting how humans
regard everything in their lives now

as a matter of life and death.

Under that constant pressure,
making 'em crack is a snap.

Unacceptable!

If you show a pile of dung, it
must be dry dung, not moist. Why?

Because I bear the burden of maintaining
a nation's morality on my very shoulders.

(r heavy metal)

(sing5)

It's not... acceptable.

(booing)

- Rink y-dink kids' stuff.
- I'm telling you, it's very effective.

- It's so stale and outdated.
- No. It's very modern.

In the old days, if you
materialised before

them they all knew
what they were seeing -

the external evidence of a
demon trying to tempt their soul.

But nowadays they
all assume it's internal -

a psychological
breakdown manifesting itself

in the form of a
visual hallucination.

- And you called me lame!
- The effects are immediate.

One materialisation, and
they're convinced they're bonkers.

- But then what?
- Then they go bonkers.

(laughs)

I always enjoy seeing how
their madness manifests itself.

(sighs) No, no, no,
no, no, no, no, no.

This is unacceptable.
This is acceptable.

This is... unacceptable.

This is total perversion. This
is way beyond acceptable...

His insanity threw him directly
into the belly of the beast.

(y dame)

Oh, this is borderline.

Um... No. We're
on the border here.

Oh, we're over the border here.
We're into another unacceptable zone.

No, this... No, I... Un...

Oh, no. No. No.

No, no, no, no, no.

This is not acceptable.

I am Broadcast Standards and
Practices, and this is not acceptable.

We're going to cut.

No excessive use of violence.

I am Broadcast
Standards and Practices.

No excessive use of violence!

I am Broadcast
Standards and Practices.

No excessive use of violence!

You'll not get away with this. The
final scene is gratuitously violent!

Aliens are a superior race and
would not utilise automatic weapons.

I will not approve this! I am
Broadcast Standards and Practices!

(r heavy metal)

(sing5)

What...? What do
you want from me?

- Enough words. Time for action.
- What?

You bear the burden of maintaining
a nation's morality on your shoulders.

- You mean...?
- Yes. Kill them all.

Enough words.

Time for action.

Yes. Now, shut up and dance!

(music continues)

You see, their grasp on sanity, and
thus their souls, is precarious at best.

I should say so.

(I "The X-Files" theme)

(director) Camera move.

OK, aliens ready now?

I am Broadcast Standards and
Practices. This is unacceptable.

I am Broadcast
Standards and Practices.

No excessive use of blood!

No excessive use of violence!

- Run!
- This is all unacceptable.

I am Broadcast Standards and
Practices. Everything is unacceptable!

Is that thing still rolling?

60, take three. Tail slate.

Hey, that's where
I saw that guy.

- What guy?
- The depressed guy that saw you and Abum.

He was at the aftermath
of the alien massacre.

(r heavy metal)

(music stops)

But I don't know how he saw me. I wasn't
trying to appear as an hallucination.

Now you're losing
your grasp on sanity.

Hold on. Not so fast.

You boasted that the soul that you damned,
ended up damning millions of others.

- How do you figure?
- Just take my word for it.

Not every network has such strict
broadcast standards and practices.

(man) These extra-terrestrial
visitors need to phone home

and 911.

“When Humans Attack“,
right after these messages.

He knows what we are.

The man that you've all seen,
who seems to see us so clearly?

I've seen him, too.
He knows what we are.

It's an impossibility!
He can't know.

- He told me himself.
- What? When did this happen?

The other day I... I'd
rather not talk about it.

You can't not tell
us. What happened?

You don't understand.
It's personal.

- How the hell can it be personal?
- The details.

- They're so tawdry and sordid.
- Now I must insist you tell us.

(sighs) I was at a strip joint.

It was a quiet night
and! Was biding my time,

on the lookout for my
next damnable soul.

It was obviously his
first time in such a place,

and I always get a kick out of seeing
someone's first taste of forbidden fruit.

But this yokel doesn't sound
anything like the man we saw.

- Can everyone see our true essence?
- No, this kid didn't see my true essence.

Hell, he didn't even see me. He
saw himself, his potential future.

- It scared the bejesus out of him.
- (laughs)

Sure. Yuck it up. It's really funny
when it ain't happening to you.

But this is just
another reminder that...

- I'm losing my touch.
- Ah, no, you're not.

No. It's true.

It's been so long
since I tempted a soul.

Now here I am scaring wide-eyed
innocents back to the other side.

In any case, I was feeling very
vulnerable at that particular moment.

Don't be so glum, handsome. You
could use a personal-fantasy dance.

- How much are they?
- 20 bucks a dance.

- How much for an eternity's worth?
- 20 with a sideways eight next to it.

(Giggles)

(sultry melody)

- What's your name?
- Chantilly.

- What's yours?
- Engelbert.

(laughs)

What's your real name?

Sally. What's yours?

Toby. How long have
you had the tattoo?

I got it when I started stripping.
Should have seen me back then.

- I was a right little hell-raiser.
- I bet you were.

I was gonna sow my wild oats,

settle down, get pregnant

and watch my
little devil grow big.

- I guess that's not gonna happen now.
- Stranger things have happened.

Of course, girls nowadays,
tattoos all over their bodies,

fake boob jobs, pierced
tongues, who knows what all!

- I guess I'm just... old-fashioned.
- Times change easier than people.

Ain't it the truth?

I should have quit
dancing years ago,

but I have no other skills.

Now you're singing my song.

Why?

What do you do for a living?

I guess, this. I used
to be so good at it.

But now... I stink.

I don't know what happened or
where it went, but it did and it's gone.

- All good things must come to an end.
- Yeah. Life's funny that way.

"Funny" is a funny word for it.

(sobs softly)

- Keep your hands to your sides.
- I know. I'm sorry.

Those places are really strict
about that rule, aren't they?

We were like two lost souls
who, by finding each other,

had also found the answer
to all of life's mysteries

and the secret to having lots
and lots of really great sex.

After that night we were
inseparable. To be apart was painful.

But what did you
two do together?

You don't understand. We
didn't have to do anything.

Most nights we just... laid
in bed and watched TV.

(TV) I think he's going
through some kind w!

Midlife crisis. It's
common for people his age.

Boy, this show really stinks.

You said it.

(Toby) It was heaven.

Even the times we had to venture
out into the world were wondrous.

Her presence made the
mundane seem magnificent.

Toby, I don't know
where this story is headed,

but it's starting to
give me the creeps.

- One night she saw my true essence.
- Another one?

- The world's gone mad!
- She'd gone in the night to the bathroom.

She saw me for all I'm worth,

in all my naked devilry.

You see, she
forgave me my faults.

One night shortly after that we
happened to wander into here.

- You brought her here?
- It's a public place!

I know, but there are some
places where women don't belong.

We sat at this very
table and I said to her.

"Sally, there's something I've been
wanting to ask you for a while now."

What is it, Toby?

Sally, will you m... Will you...

Will you mind if we didn't
see each other any more?

I'm... I'm really tired of you.

In fact, you make
me sick, you...

fat old cow.

I could have delivered
my lines better. I

know I'm a bit rusty,
but they were effective.

She ran out heartbroken.

In the old days I wouldn't have
checked, but I was unsure of myself.

(sighs) So after enough time had
passed, I went to her apartment.

The police had
just gotten there.

I'm the boyfriend.

I'm a little ashamed to admit! Was worried
that I might feel sympathy for this being.

But seeing her like that only reminded
me what ridiculous creatures they are,

to destroy themselves
over something so fleeting as

emotional attachments
and biological needs.

I was overcome with relief.

Plus, it had been such a long
time since I'd notched a soul.

- You've still got it.
- Just like riding a bike.

But that's when I saw him.

I don't know who he was
or what he was doing there,

but he knew what I
was. I could just tell.

You must be so lonely.

There! He merely mistook you as
a grieving boyfriend, nothing more.

He thought your relieved
sobbing was hysterical sobbing.

I told you. This man has
no idea what we truly are.

"You must be so lonely."

Hey. Kid!

Great cup of coffee.

Keep up the good work.

(laughs)

Visiontext Subtitles:
Fran Welland

(child) I made this.

ENGLISH SDH