The turning has started early.

Another must join our ranks.

The dark initiation is nigh.

-Sweet baby Jesus.

The corn made a picture!

The time has come.

The time has come. The time has come.

The time has come. The time has come.

The time has come.

The time has come…

-…for year-end bonus o'clock!

-Great news, guys.

I know I can be a real cabal-buster sometimes.

But the numbers are in,

and we have finished this year's missions in record time.

So these gifts are from J.R. to express his thanks.

Ooh, what's it gonna be? A private island?

Please be the nuclear codes.

-Tote bags? Again? Son of a bitch!

I don't need a bag to carry shit.

-I got six fucking arms. -Uh-uh.

Wait. There could be a check inside of it or…

…a commemorative tinfoil hat.

That's just actual garbage.

-Oh man. -Oh my God.

-I want gifts. -Guys. Hey, guys.

You know what? You're right.

You do deserve more than tote bags. I'm taking this to J.R.

-Give it to him! -Yeah, girl!

J.R., my team has worked harder than ever to deliver on our missions, and--

And it has finally paid off!

After a lifetime of kissing every ass up the ass ladder,

I have finally become top ass!

The Robes are initiating me into the Shadow Board!

-Wow, very Hogwarts.

And there's blood on my hands.

Join the club.

All my life, I've had a humble dream

to be the most rich and powerful person in the universe.

And now it's happening,

and I want you to be the next CEO.

Oh my God.

-I'm gonna run Cognito?

I thought this day would never come! I'm so unprepared.

Yeah, are you gripping a binder called Reagan's Inevitable Takeover?

Wow.

This is so much to take in. I feel like celebrating.

Ooh, you wanna disappear someone for funsies?

It's hilarious. They get sent to Shadow prison and erased from history.

I should probably wait at least a week before going mad with power.

Ah, you remind me of when I had more hair and values.

-You want my advice?

-You gotta be ruthless to run this place.

Once you're actually sitting in this chair, everything changes.

With all due respect, sir, that's what I'm counting on.

-Hell yeah, Mole-Man!

What up, 3Pac?

Stem Cell Steve, have you gotten younger?

That's what I do.

What up, Deep State?

Today I control you!

Well, this will go well.

Dad, I've got some good news and some good booze.

-Ah! Intruder! -Ow! Ooh, Rea-- Kiddo! Kiddo, it's me!

Whoa. Sorry, Dad.

I wanted to surprise you for your promotion

by cleaning up the place.

I almost got my vomit stains out of your diploma.

Wow, that's weirdly thoughtful of you.

Hey, Dad, can I run a work problem by you?

Are you kidding? I was a work problem for years. Shoot.

Do you think, in order to be a CEO, I have to be a ruthless psycho like J.R.?

Fuck J.R., Reagan.

You've been preparing for this job since you were six years old.

I'm proud of myself for raising you.

So by the transitive process, you're saying you're proud of me.

Eh, something like that.

Aw, Dad. Distant hug.

Ah.

-Yeah, how's that? -It's something.

It's tolerable.

Today, I finally leave Cognito Inc. and ascend to the Shadow Board.

I want you to know I love you all

like a random group of people

I was contractually required to spend 40 hours a week with.

To quote Christian Bale's meltdown on the set of Terminator Salvation,

"We are done professionally."

Thank you, and enjoy the shrimp.

Today, a new dawn is dawning.

Look, let's get real.

This company has been an old boys' club for years.

I mean, really old.

-You take that back.

For far too long, this company has run on lies, selfishness,

and a lust for money that borders on the sexual.

Hell yeah!

Well, no more.

-I present Cognito 2.0.

We're gonna make the world a better place,

starting with chairs with improved neck support

for our Easter Island population…

-Oh, very ergonomic.

…to increased media spending for the subliminal messages that matter.

Recycle. Health care is a right. Delete Twitter.

I even created an ethics bot

to ensure that our missions are morally acceptable.

Congratulations, Cognito Inc. You are 51% not evil.

-Booyah!

But best of all, no more shitty tote bags.

Task force, you're getting crew jackets.

Ah! It's me. I'm on a jacket.

I'm so excited I can't breathe.

Huh, jackets?

Unlike these chumps, my loyalty isn't for sale.

Oh, I also upgraded Myc's weird jerk-off machine

so we can milk all six tentacles at once.

Slay me, mushroom daddy.

I would both kill and die for you.

Reagan, 2024.

Reagan! Reagan!

Hell yeah! My best friend is my boss.

This is gonna be so uncomplicated.

Whoo!

Finally, it's gonna be a Deep State you can trust.

Trust no one. There's been a security breach!

Shit! Crapping-ass! Damn it! Pants full of fucking shit!

There's a mole in our midst.

They've broken in and stolen the unspoken file.

What's the unspoken file?

The one we don't speak about. You got a brain under that hot face?

It's the master dossier

of every conspiracy we have ever committed.

If that gets exposed, the whole company goes down.

Someone here is trying to personally fuck me over, and I won't have it.

If the Robes find out about this, the only place I'll be promoted to

is Shadow prison X.

The place we disappear people to

that's so secret even we don't know where it is?

That's where we sent the third Olsen triplet.

Pour one out for Stacey May Olsen.

Okay, let's just all stay calm and be reasonable about this.

I'm filling the atrium with sharks trained in Krav Maga!

I'm going to my coronation ceremony come hell or shark water.

Reagan, you wanted to be boss. Here's your first task.

Find the mole by end of day,

or I'm disappearing every one of you!

Oh, and Reagan, congrats on the promotion.

Thank you.

I hope you survive yours as well.

Hey, Cognito.

It's your new CEO here, thanking you for your cooperation

with this whole friendly, mandatory screening.

Warrantless searches are unethical.

-Okay, Reagan, no pressure.

You have ten hours to find the mole, or everyone dies.

This job is my dream. I will not give up on my utopia.

I can't go to Shadow prison X.

I created all their torture devices

with the express understanding I'd never have to experience them.

Okay, whoever did this wanted to take down J.R.

and didn't care about the fallout. But why?

Who in this company would be such an asshole?

Oh, come on.

No, there's only one truly vengeful traitor

in the building,

and I know because it's basically all he talks about.

It is not. Besides, I can't be your mole.

I've been trapped in a glass tomb for a reason we've all forgotten.

Attempted global genocide?

Do us all a favor, build a bridge and get over it.

Am I right, folks?

This guy is a pistol. Why don't we hang out more, man?

His casing is intact.

There's no way he could've stolen the file.

Ah, but I saw on the security log

that J.R.'s door was opened at midnight by someone with department-head clearance.

Wait, but wouldn't that mean that the mole would have to be…

Someone in this room.

Drama.

It's fine, J.R., the Robes don't know about the leak.

Don't lose it. Just schmooze it.

-Oh, hello!

How's my favorite Shadow Council doing?

You cryptic bastards still keeping it shady, or what?

Hello, J.R.

We've been watching you.

So is this where we're doing my, uh, robe ceremony?

We didn't bring you here to give you a robe, J.R.

Ah, okay, you caught me.

Look, I can explain!

We brought you to compete to the death for one.

So this isn't Shadow prison?

No, it's an insidious maze

filled with deadly traps and sinister creations.

Wow.

What a diabolical twist.

You guys are good!

I love the decor, by the way.

May the first person to exit the maze win.

Let the games begin.

Okay, crusty old guy, crusty old guy…

J.R. Scheimpough, the most entitled person I know,

and I've had Tom Cruise jump on my furniture.

Well, well, well. Oprah. Hey, how are things over at the Illuminati, by the way?

You still tryin' to scramble up to the top of that greasy pyramid?

You're not the only rich sociopath

I'm going to leapfrog on my way to the top.

Ah!

I knew God didn't exist. Ow!

It's too many snakes.

Booby-trap floor. That's cute.

You seem calm for a man who's one puzzle away from certain peril.

A maze is just a building full of lies designed to make everyone miserable.

I've been running one of those for 40 years.

Okay, we're still a team, except for the one of us that's not.

Can't Myc just tell us who did it?

My, uh, psychic powers are tapped out.

I might have gone a little overboard test-driving Reagan's new spank tank.

That sounds like something a leaker would say.

Look, he's leaking right now.

You're quick to point a flipper.

I say Glenn's the mole. His backstory doesn't make any sense.

He's a human who became a dolphin,

but his last name has always been Dolphman?

-I'm calling bullshit. -I have an idea.

Maybe we can share the blame equally,

like best bros.

You'd love that. Maybe Brett's the mole,

and he did this to force all of us to be best buddies in prison forever!

Everybody calm down.

Don't forget, this is Cognito 2.0. I'm gonna solve this humanely.

None of us have left the building,

so the unspoken file hasn't left the building.

We'll search office by office.

We find the file, we find the mole.

-It's every Mothman for himself!

That's right, I'm taking all the lamps!

Social order is breaking down!

Well, Brett's creepily clean.

Is that an entire drawer of Purell?

Mm-hmm. That's some American Psycho shit.

I'm a blank slate, and I have nothing to hide.

-Concealed item detected.

Ooh.

-He's got a wire. -Oh, my God.

My hunch about you from day one was right.

You're some kind of sleeper agent created in a lab by Abercrombie.

-Quick, test his reflexes. -Ow! Ah!

Guys, okay, I can explain.

-This is my audio journal.

Dear diary, how are you? I'm Brett.

Sometimes I wonder, do trees have feelings?

My therapist recommended that I keep one

because I feel emotionally gaslit by you guys, a lot.

Scan complete. Area cleared.

Look, search all you want.

The only thing you'll find looking through my personal possessions is jealousy.

Jealousy and dozens of rejected job applications

to work for the Illuminati?

Maybe you sold out J.R.

in exchange for a cushy new gig with Oprah at our rival company.

You're leaving us, Gigi?

Dear diary, abandonment issues rearing their ugly head again.

That's none of your goddamn business.

If I wanted J.R. canceled, I'd have done it with a tweet.

I got cancel tweets locked and loaded for all y'all,

so watch your ass.

Did someone already ransack Andre's office?

What? No.

This is how I keep my office.

Or did you destroy your lab in a fit of rage

after J.R. refused to let the FDA approve your truth serum?

Look, I'm hooked on truth serum, okay? Regular drugs don't work anymore.

The only thing that gives me a rush are harsh truths.

Harsh truths?

If you survive 40, I hope you find peace with yourself.

Yes! Harsher.

Oh God, he's enjoying this.

I'm no traitor. You can cavity-search me if you want. Go ahead.

What's inside the vault?

Hmm. Nothing.

-No, no, no, no!

What the hell?

A wig? Fidget spinners?

A secret identity!

You're a double agent with double chins!

I am not!

The truth is, I've been working undercover at Georgetown

under the alias of 19-year-old liberal arts major Chad Dallas.

Only thing Chad loves more than vaping on his electronic cigarettes

is signing up his fellow teens to become drone pilots

for the US military.

Thanks, bros.

Sacrificing yourself to the state is bae.

-Area cleared. -Booyah! Exonerated.

Well, I guess that's everyone.

It's Myc then.

Myc's the goddamn mole.

-Ah! It's not me. -Unethical.

-Unethical. -Whoa, Reagan. A little timeout.

-Ah!

You are acting cheugy right now, Reagan.

Things are, uh, getting a little heated in there, Ray-dawg.

How does running this company ethically help

if I can't even find one lousy mole?

Maybe the mole isn't one of our friends.

I guess I'm just an atrium half full kind of guy,

but I think they're telling the truth.

That's it, Brett, truth. I know how we're gonna find the mole.

We're gonna slip those shady bastards a little of Andre's truth serum.

Whoa, Reagan, doesn't that seem a little--

Unethical. Unethical. Uneth--

In a perfect world, we wouldn't have to drug our friends

to avoid being eaten by sharks.

But we live in America in the 2020s,

and all bets are off.

It's time for you to stop thinking with your heart

and start thinking with your head.

But…

For the gang.

Okay, let's drug our friends to save our friends.

Let's see, we've got a pharaoh, Aristotle…

Ronald McDonald? Was he a real guy?

-Can a god become a man?

Look, let's skip the banter till after I'm a Robe and you're dead.

No, you simple sentient forehead.

You're going to get me that robe.

And why would I do that?

'Cause Cognito has a mole.

And unless you want the Robes to know you can't keep your house clean,

you're going to do exactly what Oprah tells you.

Goddamn it.

Fine. But only because you gave me a car that one time.

Out of curiosity, how the hell did you find out about the leak?

Let's just say your extraction team

was looking for new employment opportunities.

Is this about me using them as a death squad?

Goddamn millennials just won't put the work in.

Sorry, guys.

I said things would be different with me as CEO.

If we go down, we go down together.

A toast to the best group of coconspirators anyone could ask for.

Huh. I have a weird urge to tell someone whatever the opposite of a lie is.

Wh… what is that called again?

That's because I put Andre's truth serum in your drinks.

-You truth-roofied us?

I prefer tru-fied. It's more playful.

Now you're all gonna talk.

-Gigi, are you the mole? -No!

Then why were you applying to join the Illuminati?

Because they're the Prada of secret societies,

and you all ignore me.

I don't think any of you even know what my damn last name is.

I wanna say Luigi?

Gigi Luigi?

I'm gonna kick whatever you have instead of an ass.

This is good. We're talking, letting out our truths.

Myc, are you the mole?

Hell no. But we're telling the truth?

Well, I got some truth bombs for you.

I've been in your minds all year.

I know all your dirty little secrets.

Gigi hooked up with Andre at the company Christmas party.

Brett thinks Reagan's mom is hot.

Reagan has a Carl Sagan fetish,

and Glenn has had sex dreams about all of us.

-Oh my gosh! -Jesus Christ.

No, no, no, no.

Damn you, mushroom!

This is why I've been secretly trying to get your fungal ass deported

back to the center of the Earth.

-You've been trying to deport Myc?

Dolphin versus mushroom. This is like watching Planet Earth.

Shut your bong hole, Tommy Chong.

Everyone here just uses you to get drugs, and you're definitely the mole.

I… I'm not the mole. I'm not even a real doctor.

I flunked out of med school my first year.

My PhD is photoshopped from an episode of Doc McStuffins.

Andre, you did my dolphin surgery.

You literally said the words,

"Trust me, I'm a doctor."

That's just a turn of phrase.

"I'm a doctor." "Where's the beef?"

"Gigi, I wasn't kind of frightened by our sexual encounter."

Hey!

You know what?

If J.R. wants to kill me, tell him to go ahead and try it.

Hidden weapons!

Stop! Stop! Reagan, the truth is tearing us apart.

It doesn't make any sense.

It's not like some other perfect suspect is gonna just, like, fall out of the sky.

-What?

Congrats on the promotion, sweetie.

-What the entire fuck are you doing here?

Look, I know what this looks like.

I'm a former disgruntled employee

mysteriously sneaking into a company I swore "vengeance" on.

However, you know, fucking--

Man, this one really got away from me.

It all makes sense! Rand hates J.R.

Conclusions jumped. Hand over the file.

Dad, I want the truth, and if you lie,

I swear I will have Bear-o smother you physically and emotionally.

Truth is, I just snuck in this morning

to bring you a little surprise on your big day.

Well, it used to be cupcakes,

but I got lost in the vents and started boredom eating

listening to you assholes Agatha Christie each other.

But you're banned from the company. How do you have clearance?

-I borrowed Reagan's.

He's got the motive. He's got department-head clearance.

Feed him to the sharks.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Let's not make any rash decisions here, guys.

Guys, wait. Wait.

The file has been gone for hours, and it still hasn't been leaked.

It's like whoever did this just wanted to turn this team against each other.

And take this in the best way possible,

my dad just doesn't care about you guys.

It's true. I don't even know most of your names.

Reagan, I try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt,

but what's more likely, that this was done by one of our gang

or that it was done by your dad, who's a psychopath alcoholic?

I know him, Brett. He is an asshole, but he's got a good--

Heart? What did you say about listening to your heart?

Ethical conundrum detected.

Who to trust, your work family or your real family?

You know, lording your ethical superiority over people,

it's not very ethical.

Ethics aren't ethical?

Error. Moral relativism detected. Error.

We can still find the mole, save your job and this office.

It's him or us, Reagan.

Hand over your dad.

Sorry, Brett.

Bear-o.

Does Reagan need a hug?

-Dad, jump! -That's my girl.

Reagan, no.

Oh no, they don't.

-Come on, I know where we can hide out. -What?

Oh my gosh. Is there a secret tunnel in the Mayan calendar?

How do we have shit like that but no paid maternity leave?

-We gotta follow them. -Into that shark-infested water?

Watch out. I'm about to open a can of dolphin-safe whoop-ass.

-Ah, thanks for saving me, kiddo. -Do not make me regret this.

We have to prove that you're right, or we're all getting fired,

disappeared, and/or eaten by sharks. Kind of a stakes overkill.

-Yeah, a lot of redundant stakes. -Stakes a-poppin'.

And, uh, where the hell are we?

Behind here is a surveillance feed of the entire office.

I built it during the height of the cocaine crisis

to weed out any squares.

This is how we're gonna find that mole.

You built a secret surveillance state within a secret surveillance state?

Ain't she pretty?

Back in my day, the cameras never stopped rolling,

and the fear flowed like wine.

-Ah.

I wish I could go back for the steady stream of groveling alone.

-Kiddo?

I thought I was gonna be different from J.R.

On my first day, I had to drug my team

and ride a robot bear through a shark tank.

Don't forget you made a morality robot self-destruct.

Maybe I'm… maybe I'm not cut out for this.

Hey, you made it further than your old man.

If I'd gotten complete control of the company,

I'd have spent my first morning, I don't know,

disappearing anybody your mom's ever dated

and just killing people for fun.

Be a dear and access the surveillance tapes.

Daddy's gonna rustle up some black cherry Tab.

Welcome to the final room.

One door rings true, one door spells doom.

Choose a Robe's most favorite beast

to ride to your coronation feast.

Last trap, J.R.

A Robe's most favorite beast.

It's the bull.

You wouldn't be tricking me into mortal danger, would you?

Why, I'd have to be a complete snake to do something like that.

Good point.

-Once a liar, always a liar.

Now, to accept my robe and have you banished to a black site.

-Ah!

You're right, Oprah. I'm a liar,

which is why the only way I could deceive you

was to tell the truth.

You truth-telling son of a bitch. How did you know the answer?

The Robes love a bull market.

And I should know. I'm about to be one!

Jesus, I've seen potato clocks with more RAM.

-Reagan, we know you're in there! -Guys, we need some time to find the mole.

I don't wanna hurt anyone.

You already have, Reagan. You already have!

I'm gonna need something to hold them off.

Dad, is there anything in here

that is not a computer the size of a house?

The animatronic cryptids. Our first generation of conspiracies

just had that charm of practical effects, huh?

Freedom!

-Try me, dolphin.

You don't know who you're fucking with. I'm the man who killed disco.

-Go for the jugular, Reagan.

Show no mercy.

Dad, these are my friends.

I'm Brett's emergency contact.

Maybe he could call you after you murder him.

I'm not murdering anyone!

I am not that kind of boss!

I'm the mole.

What?

I mean, not really.

But we're all about to die because we can't find the mole.

I have to take this one for the team

so there can be a team.

Take me to Shadow prison.

-Reagan, no, sweetie. -There's gotta be another option.

Well, I can't choose between my family and my friends.

I'm choosing to be a good boss the only way I know how.

The surveillance footage.

You'll see I wasn't the mole.

The mole was…

Holy shit.

Bear-o's the mole?

-It's okay, Reagan.

Do you need a hug?