Our flight to The Meadows today will last eight hours.
-Drinky-poo! -Yes!
Let's do it!
Ooh!
Goddamn, motherfucker bitches!
It's gonna be a party.
Ken.
What business do you think I'm in?
Fitness instructor?
Uh-uh.
I'm in the Skip Cho business, motherfucker,
and that's whatever the fuck makes me another billion.
You like that? You like that? You like it?
Okay. I'm sorry.
I'm really sorry.
You're coming with us to The Meadows,
whether you like it or not.
Orange alert! Orange alert! Orange alert!
Orange alert! Orange alert!
Alert! All Pentaverate personnel report to post!
I'm Maria Menounos.
Okay, gentlemen, listen up, approximately 60 minutes ago,
a Tabloid Group jet left New York for The Meadows.
Fimbra intelligence tells us that Bruce Baldwin, Skip Cho,
and the prisoner Ken Scarborough are on board.
-Where are the Red Robes? -Gone like thieves in the night.
Can we cancel The Meadows? I mean, I can't get through.
Outside communications have been severed, and the guests are already arriving.
We were beaten like rented mules.
I don't like this "beaten like rented mule."
First of all, you should not beat a rented animal.
It is clear violation of rental agreement, and you would lose deposit.
Thank you, Mishu. Did they take their keys with them?
Yes, and they took the Parce Clavem.
Balls.
With three keys, they can literally vote on anything.
Gentlemen, we have three keys.
I put forth motion to enact the Demetrius Protocols.
-Seconded. -Observed, sadly.
Let's take a vote.
Patty, where's the Da Vinci lock?
Before you get mad at me, I sent you a memo about this.
Bruce had me send the Da Vinci lock to The Meadows ahead of schedule.
All this time, we were focused on the keys like schmucks,
and then Bruce steals the lock.
Kind of genius. Kind of genius.
Who knows what they're up to.
Well, not to say I told you so,
but I knew it was a bad idea admitting Bruce Baldwin into the Pentaverate Five.
Nobody listened!
You should have gone with my suggestion of Ethan Hawking!
-Who? -Ethan Hawking.
The smart guy in the wheelchair who wrote the book about time.
You mean Stephen Hawking?
Yeah. What… what did I say?
Uh, how much time do we have?
Well, uh, Bruce should land in about seven hours.
If you left right now on the Musk, you could beat him.
-MENTOR!
Prepare the Musk for departure.
No can do, Patty-cakes.
Bruce set malware in my motherboard to lock the wheels of the Musk.
One of you skeezers has to go into my mainframe
and manually override this shit.
The world's most powerful computer, and you can't unlock the fucking wheels?
It's manual override, asswipe.
Last time I checked, I don't have hands.
Patty, how do you suggest we proceed?
Well, I'm just an assistant. I don't make those kind of decisions.
No one knows this organization better than you.
Well, I do have a few ideas.
If I remember my thermodynamics correctly,
increasing MENTOR'S temperature will cause a temporary reset,
which should be enough time to override Bruce's malware.
Mishu, try to restore communication with Dubrovnik Central.
-Got it. -Shep, go man the control room.
Copy, Patty.
We have a solid 30-second window to deactivate MENTOR'S mainframe
and disengage the Musk brakes.
Well-done, Patty.
All right, people, places. We must save the Pentaverate Five!
In 1948, in Cowes on the Isle of Wight,
a star was born,
who would later turn out to be Jeremy John Irons.
He was classically trained at the Bristol Old Vic
and gained notoriety for his many West End productions,
although his greatest achievement was--
What? Contractually, I can only talk about the Pentaverate?
Oh, fine.
The Pentaverate. Secret society, five men, claim to be nice.
You know, I really question the idea of nice,
as they just piked poor Higgins.
Oh God, I'm getting tired of this shit.
I've had tee too many martoonies.
I'm getting slightly munted.
Ah!
Motherfucker bitches! Whoo!
All right, then, let's start at the beginning.
By the time I was 40,
I'd built a media empire on a global scale.
The Tabloid Group.
We told the people what to buy and who to vote for.
I was the go-to guy when the powerful needed to bring down an opponent.
We appreciate your help, Brucey. -You're welcome.
I was the motherfucker who created disinformation,
and I had them eating out of my hands.
-Ow! Boundaries?
What boundaries?
Ow! Oh!
Hey.
-I was at the height of my career.
Whoo! Goddamn!
I love cocaine!
Next thing you know, I'm in New York…
-…forced into the Pentaverate.
Who the fuck are you?
-The Pentaverate.
Once I was in the Pentaverate…
…the Colonel and I were able to thwart the Millennium Bug.
Y2K was real.
…bug had no bite.
You're welcome.
But then the Internet arrived.
I tried to warn the Pentaverate
that the bad guys would use the Internet the same way I used the tabloids,
only a million times worse.
-Grenade!
And when Jason Eccleston joined in 2014 and created the supercomputer MENTOR…
Where the fuck am I?
…I thought we'd be able to beat the Internet
by having a universal set of agreed-upon facts.
MENTOR uploads all the world's knowledge
and calculates the probability of the most accurate version of truth.
But instead we got Internet clickbait conspiracy theories
and other opiates for the idiot masses.
Rex Smith here. We're talking about what's happening in Provo, Utah.
There is a storage facility there.
And that's where they're keeping all the dog smiles.
I thought people would be smart enough to check facts, but no.
They're too addicted to their smartphones and their tablets
and blah, blah, blah, fuckity blah.
"Oh, you'll never believe what Phoebe Cates looks like now."
-She looks beautiful, by the way. -Stunning.
She's a lovely lady.
What's the point of trying to help people
when they don't even want to help themselves?
They don't deserve MENTOR.
And guess what?
They're not gonna get it.
-Ugh!
Ooh!
Just a little bit of chunder.
Sorry about that.
A technicolor yawn.
Let me ask you a question.
Why do you need MENTOR? What are you gonna do with it?
We're either gonna make trillions by auctioning it off at The Meadows
or maybe create our own version of truth.
You didn't get enough votes to win an election? Sure, you did.
As long as MENTOR says so.
Led a massacre on your own people?
With MENTOR, you can prove that it actually didn't happen.
Holy jumpin'!
I know a few people who would pay for that.
Me too, Skippy.
Whoa, whoa! Hang on! What are you doing, Patty-cakes?
Voilà.
MENTOR mainframe has been opened.
Here, put this on.
-Patty, what am I wearing? -It's PPE! Homemade. Isn't it cute?
Hey, come on, hurry up. We don't have much time, sir.
You are now entering the MENTOR mainframe.
Please wear PPE.
No smoking.
If you're watching this,
that means that someone has tried to dismantle MENTOR.
And I don't blame you. He's kind of a prick really.
But what's important
is that the whole system doesn't overheat for more than 30 seconds.
That could cause a complete meltdown, and all the knowledge that has been gained
since the Library of Alexandria could be lost,
including the 11th herb or spice
that Colonel Sanders had put into his Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Now where was I?
Oh yeah!
Let me tell you how I killed them.
I put Donette in Jason's bong.
I thought I had convinced the Pentaverate
to replace Jason with my old mate Skippy here.
I met Bruce many years ago when he was still a media baron.
He stayed at one of my casinos in Macao.
Bruce!
Oh, there you are!
And let's just say Bruce is a man of exotic taste.
I like feet. No shame.
But instead they went with Clark.
Yeah, which totally sucked ass for me,
because I already told my trophy bitch of a wife to go fuck herself.
So I did a total 180, bought her a bunch of flowers
and ate a big shit sandwich until Bruce here could call me in.
With The Meadows quickly approaching, I had to act fast,
-so I poisoned Clark.
Then the Maester got too close, so it was bye-bye for him.
And Frick and Frack.
Cut off their heads.
Uh, sorry, why would you cut off their heads?
Two reasons, sheila.
Shizzies
and gizzies.
At least I didn't cut off their dicks.
Well, actually, I did, and then I sewed them back on.
Nice touch.
My point is, I brought in Skip then the Red Robes,
and then all I needed was to get theParce Clavem,
giving me ultimate control of the Pentaverate by having three votes.
But then you went and touched it, you dopey Canadian bastard!
Ow!
Now I need you with your stupid key to get three votes to sell MENTOR.
I'll never help you destroy the world!
The world's already destroyed.
The Internet destroyed it.
I'll never understand people like you.
You have all the access to resources, to money, knowledge, power,
to do something good for this world,
and still you choose evil?
-You'll never get away with this. -You wanna bet?
The world thinks I'm already dead.
And after I get the Face/Off surgery,
I'll be on a beach somewhere drinking peach Bellinis.
Oh, forgive my manners. Can I offer you a drink?
-Oh, yes, please. I'm awfully parched. -So am I, eh?
Here we go.
You've just been drugged.
So have you.
What's going on, Ken?
You seem high.
-Whoo! Whoo!
What's going on to this airplane?
What's going on, Ken?
Are you high?
Ooh, you seem fucking high, dude.
-Who's a fucked-up man? -You are! You are!
-Who's a fucked up man? -You are!
MENTOR is mine.
-All right! -Okay.
If we remove the transducers, it's gonna cause MENTOR to overheat.
My dear girl, where did you learn that?
There's a whole chapter on it in the manual.
Did nobody read the manual?
Forgive me. That was rather patronizing of me.
Await my command.
Standing by.
All right, here goes nothing.
I wouldn't do that, Patty. -All right.
I'm wicked smart.
Disengage now!
You did it, Patty!
Let's get out of here.
Come on, Lord Lordington!
I'm going as fast as I can, I'm afraid.
-Yes! Yes! Yes! Well-done!
-Good work! Good work! Good work! -Well-done. Yes!
Rebooting.
What the fuck was that?
I had always hoped that MENTOR would perfect enhanced intelligence
as a means of defeating the evils of the Internet.
MENTOR needs a soul.
Someone kind, someone empathetic, someone with a selfless heart.
So not this Dunkin' Douche?
Certainly not.
Hey! You know I can hear you, right?
Hello? Hello?
No, no. All lines to Dubrovnik have been cut,
and all lines to Meadows have been cut.
-Hello? Hello? -Yes, we've not much time.
All right, let's shit this fuck.
I'll hold down the fort. You go get 'em.
No, no, Patty.
What you did today confirmed something that I've long suspected.
You must join us on the train.
We need you.
Open that door.
Let's get out of here. Come on.
Keep up!
Lord Lordington, do you think we'll be able to stop Bruce?
I… I honestly don't know.
We do the impossible every day.
Miracles take a little longer.
Mm-hmm.
A word to the wise.
This train is very, very fast.
One can get a bit vommy.
Oh please, I take the New York City subway every day.
Reilly, are you okay?
I'm good. You?
Yeah, I'm fine.
Yeah.
All I wanted to do was break a big story and get my show back.
But at the end of the day,
I'm just a local news guy.
I should have retired.
I'm getting too old for this.
Maybe some people aren't meant to change the world.
Reilly,
I'm so sorry I got you caught up in all this.
No, no, Ken.
I'm sorry I got you caught up in this.
Did you always have an English accent?
I know not everyone has to change the world,
but I think we have a chance to take those chaps down.
-You are English! -Ken.
-I'm in the Fimbra Manus. -What? What?
I was sent to Toronto by the Pentaverate a year ago to take you to headquarters.
-Holy jumpin'-- -It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.
I will explain everything.
In the final episode.