Hey, you kids! Don't be bad outside my store! I keep a nice store!
Give it up, old man! We're just cool bad kids doing young stuff!
You guys wanna do some more skateboard moves?
Which ones?
- The rad ones, that's which. - How are you kids?
Did you know your Grandpa's tryin' a get your attention?
Yeah yeah, screw off, weirdo.
- Grandson, what's that mean? - He's one of those cult people.
They worship some psycho named Roy that says he's everybody's grandpa.
So what do you want to do today, eat some snacks,
and maybe let me kiss you finally?
Y'know, with my mouth and stuff?
This is going on right now. Let's go check it out.
- Awe geez. - Come on, just for fun, you know?
No, that's not what I'm -You guys keep thinking I'm a religious leader,
this isn't a religion, this is actual truth.
I'm a scientist in real life, but this isn't real life,
this is a video game.
You at least understand that much right? This is a video game?
But you said I'm your grandson?
I'm saying everyone is. Everyone here, everyone in this world but me.
You're all my grandson, your name is Morty,
you're stuck in a video game and I'm here to get you out.
What about me? Am I your grandson?
I just said everyone is!
Incredible!
Okay, okay but don't react like that, it's not a religion,
this is what is happening.
You and me and your sister are at an arcade called Blips and Chitz.
It's been taken over by terrorists.
The power went out, the game restarted, and your identity has been splintered into
all the non-player characters.
So I jacked in as Roy, that's the player character,
to get you, my grandson, Morty, out of the game before it's over and you die.
OK, question over here.
- Am I your grandson? - Jesus! Yes!
Every single one of you is one five billionth of Morty.
All of you, collectively, are Morty.
Look I don't wanna seem impatient but there's actually a lot more that
we have to get done so if this is how hard it's gonna be we are in a lot of trouble.
Summer, what?! I can't do this if you keep bugging me!
Do you understand time dilation? I'm losing a month a second out here.
There's an alien army shooting people, what am I doing?!
It's a small group of alien terrorists, just do a Die Hard.
What does that mean?
Sneak around, use air vents. You've never seen Die Hard?
I'm seventeen, no I've never seen fucking Die Hard!
Well neither did the guy in Die Hard so you're nailing it! Good luck!
Larry...
No, I'm at the end of my rope with this kid, I swear to God.
You gotta be kidding me.
- Your beautiful hair. - This is not a daughter's haircut.
I'm not a daughter, I'm a grandson.
Your family had a perfectly fine religion. You were raised Jewish.
Dad, tell me anything specific about being Jewish.
There's a million things! You go to the temple with the special hat,
the falafafluten.
The falafafluten, our Jewish words are gibberish because we're
a fourteen year old boy who was raised nondenominational Christian
and we're in a video game.
I don't need to hear this schmoitenheiven.
Let me ask you this, little miss grandson, little miss video game character.
If you're not my daughter, why stand in my house spouting this chatschkopfka?
- Why even live here? - Good question.
There she goes! My daughter.
One five billionth of a kid trapped in a video game.
Yeah, that and a college degree'll pay the rent.
What do you people want?
We have many interests but right now my primary one is the location.
Of... your... safe.
We exchange tokens for digital currency, we don't have a safe.
Correction, what you don't have is a head.
Is this a weapon or a medical tool?
Why would you give me a gun with a laser that thin?
Did you hear me tell him he wouldn't have a head?
- He's dead isn't he? - People die in surgery.
Hey, who don't touched me! I don't like being touched!
Check the hostages.
Make sure nobody else here is doing a Die Hard.
Hello, hello, my name is Morty, I'm a fourteen year old boy in a video game!
- Yeah! - Geez!
Yeah. Look. I feel like every time I explain this, I lose followers, but:
This isn't a religion.
And while I do have a message from a world beyond this one,
and I do need the entire world to hear my message,
what I do not need is any more songs about it.
Not in this genre.
I'm an old school hip hop man and no that's not an invitation
for you to try it because I'm just gonna say it,
we're missing the mark on diversity.
Get down! You're all under arrest for being religious the wrong way!
It's not a religion. You know what, just shoot me.
You think your god makes you bullet proof?
There isn't even a god in the real world, you fragmented putz,
there's extra no god in here.
You know what, hippy? Talking like that is why you're getting shot.
If you kill him, the game ends and we all die.
- Get down, lady! - I'm not a lady.
And you're not a soldier.
We're one person, split into a lot of little pieces. You feel me? Dawg?
You're not gonna hurt me. You're me.
My name is Kevin! I'm a Marine. I'm thirty.
I'm a little racist but my best friend is an immigrant that translated for me
in a generic overseas war.
That's not true. We're fourteen, we like pizza and masturbation,
we wear a yellow shirt and we have hair that looks like a brown helmet.
And we miss our family. And we're in way over our heads again.
Why's this always happen, man?
I know, right? Aw geez.
Aw geez.
Come here. Aw geez. Come here.
- Aw geez. - Aw geez.
Who is that?
Her video game name is Marta.
OK. See, this I can work with.
“Sneak around. Crawl in some vents. Do a Die Hard.”
Oh my god, it's disgusting.
Actually... it tastes really good.
Oh my god, it's disgusting that it tastes good!
Frank, have you found him? Report.
Walkie talkie. That's Die Hard. Don't have to see it to know that.
This is Jons. I repeat, have you found him?
Breaker breaker. Walkie talkie. I got your walkie talkie. Bitch.
Are you doing a Die Hard?
Maybe.
Are you? Also?
More or less. And my associate, Frank?
Your associate Frank is definitely not doing a Die Hard.
You might even say he's doing a Die Easy.
Because I killed him and it wasn't difficult.
Calm yourself, Winslow.
Winslow!
It's not every day one meets a fellow Die Hard enthusiast, Ms...
Call me Die Hard.
Okay. “Die Hard.” Tell me. What do you know about Die Hard?
What do you care? You writing a book about Die Hard?
As a matter of fact I've written several.
Every sentient civilization across the galaxy eventually develops the same myth.
In Centauri it's known as Tower Man.
The Orionese have their Thornberg Cycle and in Andromeda it's called
Foolish to Have Imagined You'd Be Able to Kill...
all of them what you'd call Die Hard.
The difference being that cultures like mine are aware of its importance
whereas I'm starting to doubt you could even recall a single line.
Walkie talkie Die Hard, motherfucker.
Not so long ago, Grandsonism was being dismissed as a doomsday cult.
But since a majority of the world decided, hey you know what, we like jerking off
and playing video games and our sister is out there fighting terrorists,
major strides have been made.
The world is united, because the world is one fourteen year old boy, Morty.
But where's it all coming from?
Some say Grandsonism's leader, Roy, has a secret base somewhere in these mountains.
I couldn't find it so I'm standing in, in the general area with a microphone.
For Good Enough News, I'm Tony!
There she is, my right-hand Morty.
Got enough spaceships?
Not yet. I figure five more years of game time before I can take the
whole fake population into fake outer space.
What do we do in outer space?
Nothing. It's fake. We keep going.
The game's map has edges, but the game's engine will let us go past them.
That will force the game to reset, but first it will kick us out,
which Morty should survive, I mean,
Whatever amount of Morty we have on board.
So if you don't have five billion handkerchiefs soaked in chloroform
I hope you can keep flipping idiots to our cause.
They're not idiots. Grandpa. They're me.
You'll know how funny that is when we get back.
By the way, I had your genius of a father picked up, he's over there.
What? Why?
I thought you'd be grateful. And less distracted than if I let him die.
He's been in real bad shape since he lost his wife.
My mom?
Your not at all real mom, a mom in a video game.
Occupied by a tiny fraction of yourself.
A fraction of yourself which is now dead forever and fractions add up,
so I had your Dad brought here, you're welcome, you heartless monster.
Marta. It's me, Dad. I converted for you.
My name is Morty. So is yours.
And there's no conversion, we're both Morty, it's a fact.
Sure, honey, anything you say. I don't want to fight.
I'm proud of you.
Are you mad at me because before you became the world's most powerful woman,
I shamed you for your haircut and called you a slutty jobless hobo?
If I were you I'd be a little mad about that.
You are me. And why would I be mad at myself?
Good point! Is there anything to eat around here?
There's a kitchenette in the break room.
A kitchenette you say, such red carpet treatment.
Excuse me?
I said thank you, I love it, we're all part of Morty
Some of us more important parts than others...
Man, the part of me that's my father is a twat.
That's also gonna be funny when we get back.
Next time you try to do a Die Hard...
Don't hide under a long table like the guy from Die Hard.
Okay I won't.
I thought you said she doesn't know how to do a Die Hard!
- She doesn't. - She's killing us off one by one.
What do you expect her to do, buy us each an ice cream? Two by two?
She's improvising. Which is how she's going to fall right into our trap.
I'm going to wander the arcade unarmed and when she comes across me.
I'll pretend to be a hostage.
And because she hasn't seen Die Hard
instead of handing me an unloaded gun, she'll hand me a...
Die Hard! Die Hard!
What the hell was that?
Die Hard! Die Hard!
You can't just keep yelling "Die Hard" into a walkie talkie and...
She threw her walkie talkie away.
She hates Die Hard.
Which makes her the ultimate McClane.
Forget everything you know about Die Hard and just go shoot that bitch!
Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Roy.
Half the country hangs on your every word. Heck, most of the world.
You're, like, kind of a pope I reckon.
I'm not a pope because it's not a religion we're literally in a video game
I've heard the message, Roy, you're not on the clock here.
So you want every single person on a space ship. But you got a bunch of holdouts.
Maybe people that prefer their leaders a little more elected.
Right. Your voters.
People that like being told what to do but don't like admitting it.
Yeah not sure I'd put it that way.
I'm sure you'd put it a stupid way. I told you this was a waste of time.
I've got ninety-two percent of you ready to vamoose,
we're not gonna get the rest by making deals with parasites.
Mr. President. Roy is Rick. He's not us.
You and I, we're Morty. Is that really so hard to believe?
Kid, I've known it and I've believed it longer than you have.
We both became video game characters at the same moment, but I knew the truth
before you dropped your skateboard and went to your first cult meeting.
How do you think a guy becomes a President in this game, honey?
By not paying attention?
Sorry to call you honey, I know we're both parts of a fourteen year old boy but
my part's old fashioned and vaguely southern.
I'm confused. If you know Rick is real, why?
Why hold out? Because he's a rude, entitled cock.
He's here to save us. He could've left the game and let us die,
- ...he's spent fifty years. - Fifty years, it's what?
A couple hours to him?
He refuses to leave without his grandson but what's grandson mean to him?
Sounds like it means butler.
Someone to Help Summer with her "Die Hard" whatever that means.
I'll tell you what it doesn't mean. Fly fishing. A hug.
A little appreciation for what is clearly a pretty decent kid.
At least the eight percent of him that makes up the decent half of the greatest
god damn nation on the planet.
We're not a person to him yet. We're not Morty yet, we're divided
We're divided because some of us doesn't trust the guy.
What happens to that part of us when we're all back together?
One Morty? Indivisible? Under a cranky old bag of dicks?
A man you can lock in a box with five billion pieces of his own god damn flesh
and blood for fifty god damn simulated years and never hear him say I love you?
Sorry pumpkin tits, that dog don't hunt.
Want some heroin? It's a video game, might as well.
Just about ready for launch, kiddo. I can finally get outta these clothes,
I don't have nearly enough pockets.
And it'll be nice to have my own dick back.
You're fine leaving eight percent of me to die?
It's not your finest eight percent, Morty.
And eight percent of anything is expendable.
Eight percent of pizza is crust.
Eight percent of the Snyder Cut was Batman dreaming.
I don't know what that reference is. We're in a video game.
- Not for long, baby. - I'm not leaving without all of me.
What? Oh no, let me crunch these numbers,
eight percent of five billion plus one person, my god,
if you stay, it changes nothing! Bye.
If she's not going I don't think my country wants to go.
Who invited you to chime in, monitor face?
Why give me a monitor if my opinion doesn't matter?
Your opinion isn't allowed to matter for the rest of us. We're all Morty.
How many chunks of us are we supposed to give up?
Look, I don't know about you but I was already taking a big leap of faith, here,
we're basically giving up our lives to become a tiny part of a stranger.
- These lives aren't real. - Yeah but they're longer.
What is this, suicide by summit meeting?
Everyone stop.
Rick.
I'll get every single part of me to get on every ship and go with you.
- Good. - But you have to tell us you love us.
I mean. At this point even if he said it, what's with the pause.
- Screw you, wait for it! - Holy war!
- Holier war! - Holiest war ever!
Loyalist Evacucratic Grandsonistas claimed the seven new cities today.
While the Stayputlican Contrasurgent Confederation of Dedication
to Video Game Reality invaded the territories of Mortopia,
New South Saint Morty and Wemortyall.
In the end, what does it matter, everyone's Morty,
nobody wants to die and that's a hell of a reason to kill yourself
but what can we do. Aw geez.
You know you're my grandson and none of this is real.
What are you trying to achieve? You're only hurting yourself.
The only reason any of us matter is we're pieces of Morty! You taught us that, Rick.
But you also taught us you don't care about Morty.
Here's how much I care.
If you don't stop blowing up my flying saucers,
I will exterminate every last one of you! Anything it takes!
What do I have to say? I love and respect you, OK?
Too late for talk, Rick.
A robot. Of course.
I'm not gonna risk dying because if I die in the game,
you go brain dead, you're welcome!
Better to die in Roy than to serve in hell!
And what about Summer? Do you not care about her?
We gotta get back, Morty, we gotta help her.
You know what, wherever she is, I'm sure she's doing fine without your help.
Woof, jinx, any on...
Should we finish the job, blow the place?
No, this can't end, not like this.
Do you think I jinxed her?
Why aren't you shooting higher?
I don't wannna shoot the glass. Because...
You don't have to not do things that were done in Die Hard, you can shoot the glass.
Shoot the glass! Throw grenades! Do everything! Just kill her!
Why are you here, Miss Die Hard? I want to know why you don't just leave?
- Die Hard! - Wait.
...person on a spaceship, and then what?
And then we help your sister do her Die Hard.
Too much. It's too much.
Sorry.
I've got a special guest with me, Miss Die Hard!
Or should I call you this guy's sister?
- Mom. - Hello, dear.
- I'm joining the other side. - What. Why?
I wanna live in the real world with Roy. I wanna help Summer with her Die Hard.
His name is Rick.
And we have no way of knowing if your generation is actually part of Morty.
Do you know how offensive that is?
It's parenting like this that pushed me into religious radicalism.
- Bye. - It's not…
Not a religion. But. Okay.
Ma'am. It's really not safe out here. Also, it's... time.
Are we going on the spaceship now?
Pretty soon, Dad. Yeah.
Are you lying?
You kind of said it with that tone in your voice that we use for dying people.
I won't lie to you.
You're dying Dad, and we're...
not leaving the video game. We're-we're gonna live our lives out here.
What? Why the fuck? Why?
- It's more real here. - The hell it is!
My liver hurts! I'm old here!
I want to be a teenage boy.
I want to jump around and do homework and jerk off all over the place.
But Dad. That's...
we would've been one tiny part of that. In here, we get to be who we really are.
Great. Dead. I get to be a dead father. Who do I make the...
Who do I...
- Who... - Don't talk, Dad.
-Gotta finish my zinger -You don't.
Who do, who do...
Who, do I...
make the check out to. “Best Daughter Ever...
Incorporated”?
Thought you would a left by now.
I was hoping to get at least half of you home.
I can't hold out much longer.
I'm pretty much beating my heart voluntarily at this point.
Ok, this is a little awkward, but the time dilation has given me a chance to reflect.
And I gotta say.
There's no need for that. I've come to tell you, I'm giving the go-ahead.
All of Morty will leave with you. To the real world.
To be your grandson, may we help Summer do her Die Hard.
I gotta say. I was not expecting that. Why the change of heart?
My people are staying only out of loyalty to me.
I'm a relic. I don't represent them anymore.
You really are a good grandson, you know that?
- I'm proud of you, Morty. - Please, call me Marta.
That's my video game name.
Speaking of which, I do have one condition.
I must say I admire you, Ms. Die Hard. You were a genuine McClane.
A most worthy yankee doodle ruffian. But now it's all come to an end.
And the quarterback, as they say, is toast.
I don't suppose you have a gun taped to your back.
What the hell does that mean?
It's how Die Hard ends. Doesn't matter now.
Die Hard tapes a gun to his back? That's the end of your perfect movie
that you've patterned your whole criminal life after?
Well it seems to have worked out pretty well for me
since you're the one about to die.
What was it you said? Ah yes. “Walkie talkie Die Hard”Mother fucker.
Why are you laughing?
Well it's funny. The way you said mother fucker.
- Just laughing. - Okay. It's just that...
Oh does that happen in Die Hard, does John McClane laugh,
and then Hans Gruber is confused but then they start laughing together for a second.
That actually does happen, yes! Wait. You knew their names this whole time?
Not this whole time, no. You left your book in the bathroom.
I read it while I took a shit. I mean mostly the ending.
Yi...
pe...
dip pee doo, baby!
Nice timing, Grandpa Rick!
Tochter aus Elysium.
Hi, remember me?
You shot me on that table, and the near death experience got me reflecting.
I didn't used to be like this. I ate a kid.
It was dark, and I thought he was a grown-up.
Ever since then I haven't eaten anybody at all.
I think I was channeling all that pent up eating energy into this job. But now
Thank you for freeing me.
Classic Tower Man. Almost too on the nose. Right, Morty?
Sure. I mean, whatever you say, Rick, you know best! I trust you implicitly.
- Is he all right? - He's fine.
Got him all out, every last piece.
What's with the jacked-up Roy Machine, shouldn't you be taking that to repairs?
Nah, special order. Some rich douche wants his last game to keep running,
hooked it up to an external battery, we're just supposed to store it.
- Weird. - Yeah and get this.
The game's still going but Roy's dead.
- Wha? - He's just a corpse floating
at the edge of outer space but for some reason the game won't restart
cause it's centered on some old lady living a full life.
Sounds bad. Well. Put it in there.
Hey is anybody that wants this later gonna be able to...
Oh, yeah, everything's cataloged and tracked.
People got the wrong idea from the size of the space
but it's all supported digitally.
So I can put it anywhere. Here's fine?
That's as fine as anywhere else!
- Why isn't anyone attacking him? - It's fucking freezing out.
No, I think it's the sign.
Well the sign from Die Hard 3 was clearly racist.
Obviously. But I think we went too broad. “Everybody” I mean who is that offending?
Everybody?
At this point, why even do it?
I wish my brother was still alive.