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Why are you watching him?

I have to support
my field agent.

Whatever.

Come in, comrade.

Papa Bear, do you copy?

Blue team, cover exits
and windows.

Red team, eyes on me.

It's a waste of time.

That's Andrei Durov.

The Hammer from Hell.

Guy's an animal.

Yeah, that makes me zookeeper.

Baby Bear to
Papa Bear, status.

Status? Great.

Had my breakfast,
got laid last night...

Knock it off.
Is your team in place?

Locked and loaded.

Oops, the door is locked.

Gonna blow it open.

Papa Bear, try knocking.
It's a courtesy call.

Courtesy?

For a dirtbag criminal?

Come on, cut the bullshit.

Bullshit from us.

The crime bosses
must think increased

security is because
of a terror threat.

Okay.

Talking about bullshit, this
place is full of it, literally.

- Steer manure.
- Tons.

It's used to confuse
drug-sniffing dogs.

Confuse them?
It'll make them puke.

And since dogs lick their butts,
that's saying something.

I'm here to see Don Sanchez.

Don Sanchez is busy.

Tell him Andrei Durov is here.

You're Andrei Durov?

No way.

Maybe his accountant.

Deep breath, courtesy.

Don Sanchez. Now.

Seriously, you're
the Hammer from Hell?

Durov the Destroyer?

The Eater of Eyeballs?

Yes. Yes, yes, that's me.

And you assholes are just
making those nicknames up.

Am not.

Me neither.

I made mine up.

Uh-huh, yours was
the only real one.

Like I said,
Don Sanchez is busy.

Okay.
We're done with foreplay.

Oh, oh...

Ah, that's better, ladies.

Papa Bear, what's happening?

I'm busy being courteous.

Cialis...

Viagra.

Double dose.

I'll make it good for you.

Hello, baby,
I got champagne on ice.

Don Sanchez.

Who's asking?

Andrei Durov.

Are you the
Hammer from Hell?

Hey, don't you goddamn
start with me.

Get lost, okay?
I got a date coming.

Yeah? But a tiny bit more
important than you

dipping your wick
is a terror threat.

We're ramping security.

You and all other
lowlife crooks

need to behave
and not distract us.

Now, listen.

First off, I'm not a crook.

Hm.

Second, I'm not stupid.

Terrorism's bad
for business, okay?

Consider it done.

See? That wasn't so hard.

One more word and
I'm gonna climb you

like a tree and
beat you with a rock.

Knock it off.

- Oh, no, I didn't mean that...
- What?

Not on the carpet!

Papa Bear?

Papa Bear, are you okay?

Hey, FSB.

Come get your guy.

He slipped in shit
and hit his head.

Accuracy at
100 percent again, Katie.

That's how I roll, Floyd.

Oh!

Is he boring you?

- Uh...
- Good job.

Glad you're here.

He's all yours.

Hope she remembers all
the techniques I taught her.

That girl's so stoked
she's on the Moscow detail

she's been training nonstop.

Gone way past your
busted-ass dance moves.

My busted-ass dance moves
are classic, son.

Yeah, I bet.
Let me see something.

Okay, Katie,
just like I showed you.

Like this?

Or like this?

Oh, hell, is that
all you got, girl?

Come on.

Oh!

Man, lucky shot.

I can't breathe.
I can't breathe.

Try it on someone who
ain't older than dirt.

Let's go.

- Come on, tough guy.
- Come on.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Oh, not fair.

That hurt.

Let's go.

Oh!

- Oh, okay, let me...
- Ooh.

I let her win.

My thinking exactly.

Pussies.

Beverly Hills.

I love that city.

And this one, too.

Moscow, here I come.

Welcome to Moscow.

Louie.

Passports, visas,
shipping manifest, please.

All the documents,
as you requested,

and they should be
in perfect order.

Working the night shift, huh?

Well, that's when
the real men work.

Sure.

Pick it up.

Unique.

Normally, people smuggle cash
out of Russia, not into it.

Drop that radio.

All right, come here.

Who recalls what I said about
handling the luggage with care?

Show of hands.

Come on.

Right.

You ever wonder why I hired
eight men for a five-man job?

It's called...

Breakage.

Breakage!

You get extras in case you
lose some along the way.

Agh!

Are the Russian
negotiations still active?

Will there be
more sanctions?

How does
the foreign minister respond?

- Mr. Secretary?
- Yes?

Is there any hope

for a breakthrough in
the Russia crisis?

Well, Russia must address
our concerns

in a more reasonable...
no, scratch that...

in a more realistic manner,

or I have very little
confidence in a resolution.

- Mr. Secretary
- Thank you, sir.

Thank you.

What does this
mean for U.S.-Russian relations?

Jonathan Westin.

Ah, just the man I want.
This is Secretary Jacobs.

Mr. Secretary,
how can I help?

First off, bucko,
you start by calling me Robert.

No, scratch that,
call me Bobby Boy.

Sir, I... Of course, Robert...

Bobby...

I need a favor,
and your discretion.

- Of course.
- Can I count on you?

Absolutely, Mr. Secretary.

Well, here's the rub.

I can't be
an effective negotiator

if I'm all tense,
you know?

My poor, purple
bunghole puckered up

so tight, I can crack
walnuts with it.

Uh, what can I do?

Well, I'm gonna need
some stress relief.

I need you to score me
an ounce,

scratch that, make it
two ounces of weed,

ganja, mogambo, you-
you feel me?

The stinky stuff.

Are you
writing this down?

Yes.

Well, then, don't, numbnuts.
I asked for discretion.

Sorry, Mr. Secretary.

- And there's more.
- Shh.

I'm gonna need you to, uh,
line me up some,

uh, va-jay-jay,
pootie-tang.

Hootchie-cootch, whatever
you call it these days.

Now, make it a blonde, and if
you're going for boobie size,

don't go for the tangerines,
go for the soccer balls.

Sucker.

You assholes!

Ha!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Guys, guys, guys, guys!

That shit would get you
tasered in the balls

at any other workplace.

Well, life's a bitch,
and it's short.

You have those both in common.

Payback's a bitch, too.

You're going to Moscow,

thanks to your
screaming dick daddy

being bud-buddies
with Jacob.

Moscow? For what?

It could be... officially,
as protocol intern.

Real reason?

- Just to add some color...
- Ooh!

...to the team.

So, you're a pocket-sized
racist hating on my negritude.

Lighten up. Get it?

Okay. Um, yeah...

I'm gonna go now,
because-Heh, all right.

I bet you screw up so bad
even your rich daddy

cannot save your stinky,
ebony glutes.

- Shh.
- Oh, God.

Ugh! Oh, there's only one
thing I hate more than you,

and that's me, every
time we slap nasties.

Quit whining, bellboy.

I'll ride you like
a hood ornament.

Oh, what?
Oh, oh-no-oh, God.

Look who's back, ladies.

Andrei.

Who wants to kiss
my boo-boo?

So that's what you're
calling him these days?

Hey, hotness, how about
a dinner tonight?

Sure.

Who let you out
of the hospital?

I let me out.

I stole a morgue truck.

What's going on?

We're hearing chatter about
a terror threat to Moscow.

So, our cover story
turns out to be true.

This sucks.

Can't even tell. It's not bad.

- Jesus.
- Oh, my goodness.

Okay, spill. Why are you
two on the rag today?

I don't know, maybe because
you busted a $3,000 veneer

or because Barnes is
pissing blood.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, what...

What do you gotta say
for yourself?

Get in shape, gents.

- Whoa.
- No, no.

Don't drag me into it.

I'm rock-hard and
razor sharp, thank you.

- Mm.
- And I lost 55 pounds.

- Mm-hmm.
- Uh-huh.

The agency made me.
And you know the key?

- Portion control.
- And hydration.

- I keep telling you.
- Don't talk about hydration.

I have to drink a
big glass of water

before and after
every meal.

And by the way, peeing

is the second-most healthy
thing a man can do.

Yeah, that was... Okay, anyway,
I gotta pee again. Damn it!

Ugh.

- Brittany.
- Yes?

Homework, no texting.

Grandpa, I'm doing
my algebra.

You heard me.

So, where were we?

Ah.

Hey!

Ha!

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Ah.

Jacobs here.

No, I only want my
Russian-speaking team along.

Right.

Well, the key term
in "secret summit in Moscow"

is "secret," okay?

Keep it simple.
Right, bye.

Grandpa, you're
going to Moscow?

- Yeah.
- Take me with!

Mom always said she'd
bring me back there someday.

Not this time.

It's State Department
business.

Secret State Department
business...

But I can practice my Russian,

see where I was adopted from,
visit people. Please?

Visit?
Who do you know in Moscow?

Well, nobody, but I can
visit museums and stuff. Please?

Sorry, sweetie,
not this time.

Okay, gentlemen,
let's get back to work.

Tony. Van.

Let's do this.

750 grand, as agreed.

- Done.
- Let's grab a coffee.

You're him, that actor.

Yes, I am.

And your English is excellent.

So is your German.

Are you,
like, doing a movie in Moscow?

I'm a businessman now.

Businessman? Mm.

Say hello to Jet Li.

Lou Diamond Phillips.

Oh.

Tony Lin.

Tony Lin?

"Shaolin Cop!"

I remember! Sure.

Oh, my mom used
to love that show.

Businessman, good for you.

Mother, huh?

Mom's not so bad if she
looks anything like her.

Maybe for you.

Take it, brother.

Ah.

Thank you, Baby Bear.

Lieutenant Durov.

Colonel.

You have a goddamned concussion.

Ah. Just a scratch.

It's a miracle your brains
are not leaking out.

Lucky for you,
because you can't spare any.

You better remember
your tech training,

because now you're
manning Maxim's console.

Gear up
and wear a damn vest.

I love Maxim,
really, I-I do.

I love him like a brother,
like two brothers, uh,

and a summer cottage
full of girls.

But he's never been
in the field.

He's never, ever
been in a fight.

Look at him, he's huge.

Who'd be dumb enough
to fight him?

Meanwhile, your thick,
peasant skull has a dent in it.

Find a vest that fits.

Here you go, sir.

Thank you, Donna.

Yes?

Oh, yeah, I do, sure, uh-huh.

If I can.

What?

Uh, well, I like
a good mimosa.

Mm.

Hey, P.B.

Have you met Barnes'
new partner, Vance?

Nice, huh?

You're not the only
pretty boy.

Paul Bradley, not "Pretty Boy."

More like "Prince Bullshit."

Can we settle down?

- Oh.
- Thanks, guys.

All right, that's my cue
to hit the loo again.

Man, give the loo
a break.

If you choke the chicken,
don't let it drip on the jet.

Show some manners.

Fuck, it's locked.
What is the code?

7-4-1-1.

Oh, Christ on a cracker.

What's up?

Okay, close your eyes.

Oh, yeah.

How the heck
did you get on my plane?

My God, that hair,
those clothes.

What were you thinking?
Miley Cyrus is over.

But Grandpa, it's Russia.
I need to look great.

Yes, Russia.

Exactly the place
I said you couldn't go.

You've really
outdone yourself...

What a brat.

You are beyond serious
trouble with me, young lady.

Ah, come here.

Grandpa, please,
please.

Oh, what am I gonna
do with you?

Oh, doll, I'm so sorry
for yelling at you, baby.

Jesus.

- I'm so sorry.
- Seriously?

I have to say,
I really did a good job

getting us these
Russian uniforms.

They match my eyes.

I paid top dollar for Russian
uniforms made in China?

Sifu, every uniform in this
damn world's made in China.

Why is the military
here, sir?

We received a terrorist threat.
We need to secure the building.

Terrorist? From where?

From everywhere.

Would you grow a pair?

Sifu, you know
I hate blood.

Come on.

Nice.

I'll get that.

Maxim Kadurin, FSB.

Katie Desmond, Secret Service.

Whoa.

Hey, Agent Barnes and
my shadow here,

no racial intent, is Vance.

- How you doing?
- God, Vance, look at this guy.

He's so huge, he's like
Mount Rushmore with feet.

What did you drink
as a child, Godzilla milk?

- Russian milk.
- Just Russian. Russian.

Hey, Nate, say "cheese."

"Cheese," my ass, kid.

I'm guessing whole...
whole Russian milk, right?

Nathan Robinson,
State Department.

My dad and I are tight
with the Jacobs clan,

and he's put me in charge

- of all this stuff right...
- Blow me.

In your dreams.

Hey, hey, hey, look,
I know my badge says "intern,"

but my hand says
"touch of death."

No, no, big shot,

there's no place for you
because of the girl.

You ride in the car.

It's called a limo,
Russian Milk.

You can't fit in there.

Secret Service lady
sure is hot.

Be professional, Papa Bear.

- Come on, come on.
- Come on, come on.

Sifu, there's a
security camera.

That's exactly why
we're dressed like this.

The purpose of this operation
is to make the world think

that Russians killed
Jacobs, hmm?

Hmm.

On my mark.

Target is a half-mile
and closing.

Target acquired.

Fire!

There's a missile
coming your way.

Roger, I have a visual.

Everyone hang on.

- What's going on?
- A missile!

Executing evasive maneuver.

No, hold steady.

Baby Bear,
you can do it,

you were trained for that.

No rush.

Oh, Jesus, Allah,
Moses, and Mary.

Ascend and bank,
30 degrees port, now.

Ah!

I'm covering all my bases.

Me, too.

Secretary Jacobs,
thank God you're okay.

This man saved our lives.

Sir, after this
assassination attempt,

protocol requires that you
return immediately to the USA.

Yeah, we have
the same protocol.

One cowardly attack will not
derail negotiations.

Understood.

On behalf of Minister Orlav,

I assure you we will
find the perpetrators.

Thank you very much.

Sir, with all due respect,
it is not impossible

to miss with
heat-seeking missiles.

Trust me, sir,
I will not fail you.

Trust comes from
deeds, not words.

What's plan B, Tony?

Hang on, please,
it's my source.

Make it quick.

Lucky you, the Secretary
of State's granddaughter's here.

- His granddaughter?
- Yes.

Here in Moscow?

The brat stowed away
on Jacobs' jet.

Are you certain about this?

Of course, I was there.
You think I'm an idiot?

I saw it with my own eyes.

Fantastic.
Call me back in five.

Sir, I've got you
a plan B.

Quit talking, start chalking.

Pavel Chernov.

I get a thousand pictures
a day of this kid.

How about shots of Chernov

with the American Secretary
of State's granddaughter?

The adopted one, from Russia?

Absolutely.

I don't have them yet,

but I'm giving you a chance
to make a preemptive bid.

They're getting
together today.

There is no news anywhere

about the granddaughter
being in Moscow.

She's here, with Jacobs.

A top American official comes
to Moscow

and the only guy
who knows about it

hasn't brushed his
teeth since Christmas?

Get him out.

Screw you.

The price just doubled.

Go.

Allow me.

Thank you.

Gentlemen are a rare breed.

Apparently so.

Get in already.

Aren't you the big-shot
intern in charge?

Is that how
we're starting out?

Listen, if you go online
and look at my family's

net worth, you'll see
three commas.

That's right, not like
three zeroes like you all,

three damn commas.
Boo-yah.

Well, gosh, playa,
a billion, huh?

That's about how many times
you can kiss my sweet ass.

Okay, you fine public
servants so eager

to run things,
have a damn party.

I'll listen in and have a tall,

frosty mimosa,
breakfast of champions.

Have fun driving
that shitty car

on your lame-ass detail,
big shot.

My haircut cost more
than your ride.

Oh, and fix your muffler.
Sounds like my dog's farts.

Here, it's a commlink.
Try it.

Is it working?

White Russian,
this is Black Russian.

I can hear you loud and clear.

I'm not in the mood
for that guy.

Don't bitch at me about him.

Did I not just say
I can hear you?

Yes, they work loud and clear.

I can hear your heart beat.

So, where are we
taking the princess?

She requested the Vegas Mall.

Good choice,
best place in the city to shop.

Vegas Mall?
Wait, I wanna go there.

Missed your chance, partner.
Have a mimosa for us.

Minister Orlav,
always a pleasure.

You know, we should
stop meeting in secret

so the rest of the world can
see we actually like each other.

It's good to start our day
on a note of agreement.

Please.

We heard you have a stowaway.

Oh, don't worry about
a national crisis.

Every grey hair on this head
was brought to me

by my beloved granddaughter.
After you.

- Ah, Galina.
- Mr. Secretary.

- Good morning, sir.
- Good to see you again.

Right this way.

Whew.

- Yeah.
- Just go, geezer.

All right, thank you.

Baby Bear, missile last
night was a Russian Igla.

That fact isn't gonna bring
much love to the negotiations.

Oh, thank you
for a brilliant insight.

Baby Bear,
what's your location?

Mmm.

Arrived at the Vegas Mall.

I wouldn't go clothes shopping
with a girl I'm porking,

Let alone somebody's
spoiled grandkid.

Mm, yummy.

Girl sure loves her that
Taylor Swift thing.

Shocker she went all
Kristin Stewart today.

In English. I'm Russian.

I've never seen her in
shorts and boots before.

Almost here.

We should be closer.

Spoken like a man who's
never gone shopping

with a teenage girl.

Hey, hey, paparazzo.

Must be a celebrity nearby.

Cockroaches with cameras,
those guys.

Followed me everywhere when
my series was running.

I have to be with my techs,
investigating the rocket attack.

And Jacobs shouldn't let
his granddaughter out

after someone tried
to kill him.

Yeah, we discussed it,
at length.

Brat sure knows how
to get her way.

Anyway, nobody
knows she's here.

Brittany.

Brittany.

Oh.

My God, it's really you.

Shh.

Here, take my jeans.
You know what to do?

Of course.

- Are you ready?
- Absolutely.

So how long you been
a field agent?

Since I met you.

You're yanking my dick
right now, aren't you?

I would never
yank your dick.

There's security,
and there she is.

Successful kidnappings
take months of planning.

We have about two minutes.

But I'm great at improv.

Chloroform.

Mm-hmm.

Soon as I grab her,
you cover me.

Mm-hmm.

Oh, boy.

It's not her.

They don't know
where she is, either.

All right, quick, outside.

You should go with her.

Brittany?

She's gone.

No. No, no, no, no.

Chloroform.

Oh, my God.

"Will call Jacobs in
one hour on his mobile.

Speak only to him.

Follow all instructions,
or granddaughter dies."

Head downstairs,
check the other exit.

Captain, are you serious?

Step back and shut up.

Security's chasing us.

Baby Bear, what's going on?

Papa Bear, bring up
the traffic cams.

Three white BMWs.

Two are decoys.

They're trying to shake me.

Have mercy, please.

I really have to leave.

Shit.

Hey, hey, hey, hey,
stop the car.

Hey, hey, hey,
put down your window.

What?

I need your car,
it's an emergency.

No!

Behind you! Carjacking.

- Or I'll have to hurt you.
- You're already hurting me!

- Psycho woman.
- I'll hurt you more.

Get out!

You're one crazy bitch.

Yes, and yes.

All right, um,

shit, I don't remember,
how do I do it?

That right there does
not sound good.

What the hell is happening?

Just stand by,
God damn it.

You gotta shake them.

I'll go left,
you guys split.

I got the three white Beamers.

Which one are you following?

Not sure,
they shuffled around.

One's turning,
stick with the other two.

Faster, don't lose them.

Um, I would follow the one
with the most people in it.

By the way,
why are we chasing them?

If they're chasing us,
they must think we have her,

- And that's a good thing.
- How?

Let's go, let's go, let's go.

Whoa!

Wow!

What the...

He's right on our tail.

Tony, Tony, make a decision.

Tony!

Woo!
Fuckin' what'd I tell you?

Guns!

Is that gunfire?
What's your location?

Kitoskya street,
getting shot at.

Son of a bitch, he's got
a bulletproof windshield.

Cops are off my tail.

We need to find the girl.

Regroup at HQ.

He went in the tunnel.
Now what?

Papa Bear, you've gotta
stay with them.

I crashed my car.

Ah!

Baby Bear, I-I broke all your
jagga-lagga stupid tech toys.

I hate this shit.
What do I do?

I'm trying to track
Brittany's phone.

Where the hell are you?

Just crashed the car.
Texting my location.

Crashed what car?

Nathan, I said stand
the hell by.

I told you Baby Bear
don't know how to drive.

Who gave him his license?

Wow, this is so cool.

Woo! We did it.

Yeah. I can't believe I'm here.
I can't believe you're here.

Uh, hey, excuse me, wh...
what are you doing?

Can you help me to remove
the jeans, and the boots?

- Uh, uh, sure, of course, okay.
- Great.

- Yeah. Great, um...
- Of course, yeah.

Uh, oh, but...
let me help you.

And the right one, please.

Thanks.

Uh, keep them.

Boyfriend jeans are it.

Boyfriend jeans?
I like it.

So, where do you
wanna go first?

Anywhere. Everywhere. You pick.

Grandpa's meeting
is done in six hours.

- I gotta be back by then.
- No problem.

Oh, can you please
hold my phone?

- Okay. Um...
- Yeah, thank you.

...your phone backed up
to the cloud?

Yeah, of course.

Hey, what the...

What the heck
are you doing?

Now, they can't track you.

But I love my 6.

You'll love the
8 Plus even more.

Oh... my... God.

Say to him bye-bye.

- Bye-bye!
- Bye-bye!

Oh, shit.

Hey.

Is that blood?

Hey, give me that.

No, no, no, no.
We have to talk in private.

Her phone location went dead.
The last ping was by the river.

We are mega-screwed.

How did they know
she's in Moscow?

How could they get her out?

I have no idea.

I was 10 seconds behind her,
and then she was gone.

- I drive.
- No, no, no. I drive.

Hey, what the hell
are you doing? You-Ugh.

Are you bat-shit loco?

Mm-hmm. Get in.

Where did you get
the car?

I borrowed it.

This is so fun, I've
never been on a scooter before.

- Whoop!
- Ah!

Hey, hey,
I need my commlink back.

Stop pawing at me,
I will drop this.

Okay, here's the deal.

Kidnapped girl,
international crisis.

Both our careers
are in the crapper

because it happened
on our watch.

Get to the point.

My point is what's
the hurry in letting

anybody know what happened?

Let's see, combine law
enforcement assets

for the two most powerful
nations on Earth.

Okay, there's that, but
we can find her ourselves

before anybody even
knows she's missing.

No international crisis,
no dead careers.

We have six hours
before the summit ends.

Five and a half, and
kidnappers who will call

Jacobs in 51 minutes.

Gotta find the girl.

Oh, and I gotta report in.

All right.

Find some new cars,
dump the Beamers.

Come on, admit it,
I'm making sense.

But you still have
something of mine.

I'm taking that
as a "yes."

Are you warmed up enough?

Oh, yeah, always works
wonders for my performance.

Good.

You better have good news.

It went perfect.

We have Jacobs'
granddaughter.

Let me see her.

She's secured down
in the basement,

but this should get
her grandfather's attention

when I send it to him.

Nice touch,
your first good hand.

Thank you very much.

Do I need to say what they
will do to us if we fail?

Hmm?

All right, FSB
and Secret Service

will check traffic cam
footage for leads.

We need a better source
of information,

and I know right
where to get it.

Papa Bear?

Papa Bear?

Here you are.
I busted all the monitors.

Where the hell were you?

Forget that.
Request a mobile lab.

Have them leave it at the
Luzhnetsky Bridge underpass.

Um, what's going on?

- Your ears only.
- Mm-hmm.

Someone took Brittany.

The white Beemer?

Yes, and they left a note.

Shit, I should have been there.

Yeah, having an intern
there would have made

all the damn difference
in the world.

- I gotta tell Jacobs.
- Don't say a word,

and meet me out in front of
the summit room.

I'm on my way.

Okay, I just texted
you the note.

Yeah, they're gonna call
Jacobs 48 minutes from now.

How about telling us something
we don't already goddamn know?

Listen, woman, you better
check your tone, okay?

Look, the next one that
acts like I'm their bitch

is gonna get my foot
so far up their ass

they're gonna be able to
floss with my shoelaces.

Enough. Stay focused.

He's right.

We have to fix this...
ourselves.

Are you high?

The moment they call Jacobs,

he's gonna know this
shit went south.

That won't happen.

Not if Katie steals
Jacobs' phone

and Nathan pretends
he's him.

How the hell do you know
I imitate Jacobs?

You're bugging our offices!

You bug us, we bug you.
Big deal.

Stealing the phone, you in?

Hells yeah.

Hey, drop me off here.

Crazy-ass bitch
is gonna boost a car, huh?

Hey, hey, hey, hey.

Don't watch, hombre,

you'll lose a piece of
your soul.

Get out of the car,
please. I said get out.

Vance, can you
help me with this?

- Nope.
- Just give it a quick jerk.

Nope, not touching that thing.
Not happening.

What are you doing here?

I thought you'd be out with
Brat and the Russian giant.

President Anderson,
hold on real quick.

President Anderson.

Yeah, I don't even know
what they talking about.

Ah, really catching on
to the whole government

worker thing, I see, yeah.

Why are you here?

Uh, Chief of Staff
needs to see me.

Mm-mmm, bullshit,
you can't go in there.

- No, no.
- There's a summit in session.

No, no.

Fine, I'll just tell him
that you left me standing

out here with my thumb up
my ass, just like you guys.

Really? Well, I wish I did
have my thumb up my ass,

because my prostate is
huge right now,

and I have to pee
about every 15 seconds.

It'd probably feel good.

Why are you really here?

The less you know, the shorter
your prison sentence will be.

Oh my God, that scares me.
Oh, that is frightening.

Don't go bringing that
crazy bullshit over here.

- Don't do it, mm-mmm.
- Put that on Facebook.

It's too late.
Just help me get in the room.

- Fix the problem.
- It's against protocol.

When did you become a lame
waste of a pecker bitch-boy

worried about violating
pussy protocol?

Well, damn, that's gonna
leave a bruise.

- It did leave a bruise.
- Yeah.

But I wanna know more
about this pussy protocol.

Is that like a special club?
Could we be in it with you?

Very intriguing.

I just like hearing
you say that.

So you know what I'm gonna do?
I'm gonna let you go in there.

But you gotta lay low.
Do you think you could do that?

- Ya think?
- Okay.

I'm gonna distract
the Chuckle Twins

right over there, and
then work your way in.

Fellas, you know what?

I was thinking, hey, have you
ever seen a one-eared elephant?

It's a great trick that-
Tell me if you've ever seen it.

It goes like this.

You got this as the...
there's his trunk.

True, true, and true.

Look, America's goals
have always been

to promote and
protect democracy.

We will not be deterred
from those objectives.

Regardless of your attitude-

Are you all right?

Yes.

I would love to know
who in this country,

or maybe right in this room,
might profit from my death.

From my death and the
complete destruction

of relationships between
our two nations.

Killing me
would not change

our country's attitude
towards your military policies.

You move toward our position
on the Middle East,

and we'll move towards
yours on China.

And?

We'll stop pressure on
your provocative military moves.

We should start with
an agreement to limit

the proliferation of
both countries' weapons.

Such as
the Russian Igla missile

someone fired at my helicopter?

Sir, we have evidence
that the missile was stolen

from a private storage
facility in America.

Mm-hmm. If you really
wanna dazzle me with your

investigative skills,
tell me who stole it.

Tell me who fired it at me.

Yes, I am a grumpy
son-of-a-bitch.

Everyone, please,
give us the room.

Thank you.

Give me and Minister Orlav
the room.

Oh.

Apparently, "P.B."
can stand for "perky butt."

What were you doing down there?

Sweeping for
listening devices.

You gonna tell me
what you're up to?

Nope, and you're welcome.

Andrei, I'm at
the mobile lab.

So am I. Boom!

I asked you to request it,
not bring it yourself.

"Request" is the Latin word
for "steal," so I did.

Come on, I'm not good
with paperwork.

I don't need any more trouble.

- Hey.
- What?

That's the kid
on the billboard,

and the guy in the red hoodie.

That's why the paparazzo
was following.

There's the sleaze ball.

All right, listen up.
We find him,

we find the kid,
we find the girl.

Let's go.

Watch how this is done.

We can't afford any more
tech screw-ups.

Hey, here's the hottie.

- Who the hell invited you here?
- I did. This is...

Ah, it's the soccer-ball
titties guy.

She's hot.

A homely girl would never
get away with such attitude.

And a little douche
like you doesn't look

like the Hammer from Hell.

Ah.

So, you took out an entire
terrorist cell?

No time for war stories, guys.

Maxim is right.

Besides, that mission
was classified, okay?

You didn't disconnect
our locator beacon.

I did too.
How dumb do you think I am?

Real dumb.

This is the locator beacon.

That works the turn signals.

Ah.

Open the door.

I'm busy.
Open it yourself.

Open this fucking door.

Colonel.

Um, did they bring
the pizza I ordered?

Funny.

This is a stolen vehicle.

Um, I requisitioned it.

By hotwiring it?

Um, it... It came like this,
I swear.

They have to maintain
those things.

Uh, by the way, uh,
turn signals don't work either.

You and Maxim are babysitting
a teenage girl.

So how does that
require a mobile tech lab?

Just between us,

Maxim is very nervous about
being in the field.

You know, first time.

And, uh, he wants me
to be near,

Uh, in case
something goes wrong.

Such a big pussycat.

Just between us,
I'll assume the stupidity

is caused by
your head trauma.

Have this vehicle
back in an hour.

Uh...

And please, stop
bleeding on it.

Yes?

Someone is here for you.

Go see what it's all about.

Okay.

You and I, dinner.

Maybe.

May I help you?

Yes.

Does this guy work for you?

What's this about?

Uh, actually,

I'm a celebrity

and he took some photos
I do not want published.

Ah, you're a celebrity.

We don't share employee info.

Wait, you are
Kato, "Green Hornet."

I am not-

I'm not Kato.

I'm gonna
need that name.

I can't help you.

Our photographers only shoot
real celebrities.

I'm gonna need that name.

It's Levkin.
Number's in my phone.

Where's the phone?

Ah!

You messed with the
wrong assistant, bitch.

Ole.

Tony, let's go.

Oof.

These pants are not doing
my ass any favors.

Well, let's agree to disagree.

Zoom in.

Thank you, Maxim.

Such a waste.

Being a gentleman again, huh?

There is the man I chased.

I run the plates on the BMW.
Stolen, of course.

Nothing.

There, look... they're leaving.

I don't see Brittany.

They don't have the girl.

This is insane.
Where is she?

- That's strange.
- What's strange?

Blue Hoodie goes in alone
but leaves with someone.

That other guy.
Wait, wait...

What is that in his hand?

Is that a gun?

You see something?

What's going on here?

Follow the blue hoodie.

Look at the hair.
It is Brittany!

Shit, shit, shit.

That must be the kidnapper.

Track the plates
on that Vespa.

Little scooters
don't have plates.

Whoa, whoa, look.

Is that a paparazzi
photographing them?

Or a kidnapper

pretending to be
a paparazzi diversion.

No, the BMW I chased must
have been the diversion.

Well, maybe this guy
was a lookout.

Goddamn it, his face is
hidden by that stupid hat.

Following the Vespa
is good news for us.

Big scooters do have plates.

We need that plate number.

Security cams at
the Cherry Orchard

cover that angle.

We have to pay a visit

to the owners
at their cigars club.

Hm, now you're talking.

You and me, we're gonna bust
in the place hard as motherfu...

No, that's not how we play it.

What a pretty pond.

What a pretty girl.

This place is magical.

So, let's get out of here.
Paparazzi following us.

Come on.

Okay, let's go.

In the meantime, please sit.

Wow, once again, a gentleman.

Would you like an apple?

Yeah, thanks.

How thoughtful.
I was kinda hungry.

Mm, good apples.

What the-Get this thing
off my head!

- Don't move.
- What the hell are you doing?

Stay still, I have a plan.

Get-I don't care
how big you are...

If we want to keep the
girl's disappearance

a secret, we'll need
a double for her.

- A little haircut...
- Are those scissors?

...wardrobe...

Are you freaking
cutting my hair?

...you can pass for her,
at a distance.

- Woo!
- Oh, damn it.

Oh, this is going
on my Instagram.

It's going on
my Snapchat right now.

Oh. You're out of your
frigging mind.

Do the rest.

This was a $250 haircut.

Hey,
keep your eyes on the road.

Peroxide.
Hair, blonde.

Boobs, strap them down.

Da, da, da.

Little brat had to go blonde.

Da, da, da, da.

Are you okay?

Awesome, go faster.

I have to,
he's right behind us.

Go, go, go, go, go.
Woo!

Idiot!

Sweet, you lost him.

Time for fun, Brittany.

Looking good.

Taylor Swift enough for you?

There's the Kremlin
on the right, Brittany.

Ransom call in one minute.

How did these assholes

get a Secretary of State
phone number?

My guess, by paying
50 bucks to a teenage hacker.

Very cheeky.

Papa Bear.

One more smart-ass comment,

and I'll knock your teeth
down your throat.

It might actually work.

Hello, Kitty.

I think you found
your look, girl.

And it's taking me
to boner-town.

Pigs.

"Shaolin Cop."

Ich bin ein cop...
"Shaolin Cop."

Do you know what?

You still look
just the same.

- Thanks.
- Mm-hmm.

- It's showtime, Tony.
- I'm ready.

Yeah.

This is Secretary Jacobs.

We have some ground rules.

First, I'm gonna need
proof of life.

Ground rule one.
I make demands, not you.

Do it again,
and this conversation is done,

and so is your granddaughter.

Ground rule two. Failure to
comply with my instructions,

and I will mail pieces of
your precious to the media.

Digging me so far?

Yes, damn it, I understand.

Mr. Jacobs, what was
that bitch-slap

you gave the North Koreans
at the UN?

You... you only matter because
you're reckless and desperate.

Ding-ding.

All right, listen to me.

Ransom is 20 million
euros, cash.

No cops.

You know the drill.

I'll call in an hour to
give you the drop location.

That deadline's impossible.

He knows we're
tracking him.

Couldn't get a trace.

Katie, this club is
our last chance to find

the paparazzo's
plate number.

There are men at this club,
in an... import-export business.

Just give them the note.

Why me?

I look like a low-priced ho?

No, don't sell yourself
short, sugar.

You look like a
regular-priced ho.

Just give them the note.

It'll avoid me and
Andrei fighting the goons.

Honey, spa room
is back there.

I have something for the owners.

Indeed.

I can just about
see it from here.

Oh.

Follow me.

Nice self-control.

Suck shit through your teeth.

Can you wait there, please?

Let me in on the joke so
I could enjoy a good laugh, too.

I just graduated
from whore school,

and your mother was
my favorite teacher.

You're a real people person,
you know that?

- I'll take care of it.
- No, no, no, no. Not you.

Stop, girls, this is
a high-class club.

Hey.

Seriously?

Ooh, someone's been
hitting the gym.

Good afternoon, ladies.

Yeah, I'm fine,
thank you for asking.

We don't bite,
unless you want us to.

The big boy's ticklish.

- I'm not.
- Yeah, yeah.

Ladies, please, have mercy.

Ugh, I am seriously
gonna puke.

Well, hello.

Nice to see you enjoying
the charms of our fine club.

I'm here on official business.

If that's "official business,"
I want a job... the FSB.

I need your help,
as patriots.

No, not you.

Seriously?

That should do it.

Quit hiding,
your balls will be fine.

There's only enough radiation
to trip the monitors, huh?

Don Sanchez, is now be a
good time for me to come by?

That was so cool.

What is this place?

It's a surprise.

Nikolai Levkin.
Leave a message.

Mr. Levkin, Archie Leach,
"Vanity Fair" magazine.

I'm in Moscow with Angie.

We need additional
photographers.

Call me at this number.
Cheers.

Cigar?

Thank you.

Is this about
the secret meeting

with Orlav and Jacobs?

Or about the mystery scumbags

who want to ruin
the Russian economy?

You like?

We didn't get to smoke
$500 cigars

without knowing what's
happening in the world.

We're investigating.

Might be terrorists,

or someone who wants
to profit from the meltdown.

If you hear anything
strange, call us.

And I also need to see
today's security footage

from Cherry Orchard.

Done.

One of my men will get it
to you immediately.

Take care of it.

Yes, sir.

That's why they call me
the Hammer.

- Andrei.
- Hey.

I thought you might
need some backup.

Phone number, boom.

Forget it,
you'll pull a muscle.

That's the idea.

Man-whore.

After you.

Love you.

It's your band.

Welcome to Moscow.

Thank you.

We have a surprise for you.

Cool.

Don Sanchez is expecting me.

I love what you've done
with the place.

It's very... earthy.

Immaculate place
you have here.

Don Sanchez, it is
an honor to meet you.

My name is Wang.

Thank you for seeing me
on such short notice.

Oh, you said it was urgent.

First, a gift
from my employer.

Yeah, beautiful, beautiful.
What's on your mind?

Among his many endeavors,

the man I represent is

in the fresh produce and
gourmet food business.

I got all the supplies I need.

You haven't heard their terms.

I'm not interested.

Would you consider
reconsidering?

Let me think about it.

Mm, no, not interested.

Unfortunate.

He is not a sort of man
one should disappoint.

Ooh, I'm scared.

Woo!

Ho, ho, ho!

You have one new message.

Mr. Levkin, Archie Leach,
"Vanity Fair" magazine.

I'm in Moscow with Angie.

We need additional
photographers.

Call me at this number.
Cheers.

What do you have?

Yes, Nikolai Levkin,
returning Mr. Leach's call.

Let me get him, hang on.

English accent.

One moment, please.

One extra moment, please.

Leach here.
Love your work, old boy.

We'd love to meet you.

I'm working.

No worries.
Where?

In Sokolniki Park.

Good, I'll come to you.

On my way.

- Fantastic.
- Cheers.

Bingo, like they
say in America.

Pretty good for a big boy.

Like they also say in America.

They're in Sokolniki Park.

Boom.

Yes.

Mm, mm.

This is the best
doughnut I ever ate.

Ponchiki.

In Russian, doughnut
is ponchiki, ponchiki.

- Mm, mm, ponchiki.
- Yeah.

- Gimme four to go, please.
- Four.

- Excuse me, Pavel?
- Mm-hmm?

Uh, can we make
a selfie with you?

No.

Is Russian joke.

- Oh, okay.
- Okay.

Thank you very much.

- Thank you.
- Bye.

Goodbye.

Ooh.

- Yeah?
- Yes, uh, I'm in the park now.

Where are you?

Gazebo, by the food court.

Right, see you soon.

Okay.

Keep your eyes peeled
for the gazebo.

Hey, that Vespa.

Hey, there's our rock star.

There's the granddaughter.

You take the back,
I'll check the front.

All right.

Take 'em both.

Two dead kids are
better than one.

Let's get us some kids.

I got eyes on
paparazzi's scooter.

Got him. Behind the gazebo.

She's in the food court.

- Copy that.
- We're headed that way now.

Well, frick and frack, does
she look kidnapped to you?

Not really, and she does
know someone in Moscow.

Not just someone,
that's Pavel Chernov.

Who the hell is that?

A famous singer. Boy band.

That's our blue hoodie.

Hey, wait, wait.

I f-I went frickin'
blonde for this.

Sorry.

I want this day to never end.

- So, let's capture it.
- Yeah.

Oh!

- What the hell?
- Shut up or I'll kill you.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa...
- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa...

Ooh.

Freeze!

What the fuck?

Hey, that dingleberry
stole my moves.

Get the damn paparazzo.

He photographed
the whole thing.

Ooh, ooh, ooh.

Ah! Ooh.

Who the hell are you?

You look like that girl.

But I don't hit
like a girl.

No shit!

That hurt.

We need the pictures
and your videos.

I don't give you anything.

I have rights.

I'll sue.

Holy Maria,
the Hammer from Hell.

Please, take anything you want.

How did you find the kids?

I tracked their phones
on my tablet.

Bad news,
Chernov dropped his phone.

It's still in the food court.

Okay, let's get
this thing moving.

Yes, this is Jacobs,
I'm listening.

It was rude not to offer
proof of life earlier.

Grandpa, I'm alive.
I wanna come home.

Eye Tower, construction
site in Moskva City.

Leave the cash on
the scaffolding

in the boiler room,
sub level five, one hour.

Uh, can-Ugh.

We'll go in.

Too many people
know Hammer from Hell.

Fame is a burden.

I'll cover you.

Don't move.

Baby Bear, it's all clear.

Looks like Grump's nearly
got this place ready for business.

How many buildings does
he have in Moscow?

Five.

Oh.

This place is big.

Nice watch, pimp daddy.

Do you need help?

No, I got it.

Hey, we need them alive.

Oh, crap.

Where's the girl?

You really need to work on
your interrogation skills.

Heads up, big guy's ticklish.

Okay, okay.

Sifu has got...

Oh, crap.
Thought he was dead.

He is now.

Papa Bear, we need
to fingerprint him.

What the... Russian uniforms
made in China?

Who are these guys?

Hey, let me go, let me go.

Well, hello.

My grandpa is sending the whole
army to find me, you morons.

Maybe you're so much trouble
he doesn't want you back.

Go to hell.

I'm just playing.

I'm having some fun.

You guys enjoy
your life, all right?

For the hour you
have left of it. Okay?

Put 'em in the box...
lined with the C4.

Let me go.

Let's go, let's go. Go.

Be careful, be careful,
those are explosives.

Come on. Let's go.

They are not Russian.

Who are these guys?

And why try to kill us before
they knew we had the cash?

If someone wanted to
trash Russia's economy,

a great way to do it
is instigate a crisis,

like the death of the Secretary
of State or his granddaughter.

Yeah, that would do it.

Trade deficits,
energy fundamentals,

exchange rates,
foreign investments,

they'd all take a huge dump.

I got their plates.

Why bother?
It'll be fake.

Let's find out.

Don Sanchez?

Yeah, this the
Hammer from Hell?

I prefer
"Eater of Eyeballs,"

thanks to the ugly douche
in your warehouse...

Hey, my business associate
said, uh, an FSB guy came by.

Tall, ticklish,

asked if anything
strange happened to call.

Yeah, and?

Asian dude came by.

Said his name was Wang.

Arrogant little prick.

He wanted to push
his way into my business.

What's so strange
about that?

Two things... he gave up
too fast for someone

who wanted to push
his way into the business.

And he looked familiar,
but not real-life familiar.

You know, like TV familiar.

Okay, thank you,
Don Sanchez.

No way.

Movie prop uniforms.

Isn't that the guy
from "Karate Kid?"

Wait, no, no, no, no, that's
the naked "Hangover" guy.

No that's not,
that's Harold... or Kumar.

Ha... Harold...
Kumar...

Tony Lin.

"Shaolin Cop,"
one-hour series.

Shaolin.

1998 to 2002. German TV.

Well, forget asking Google.

Sorry, you okay, sir?

Come on.

Hey, where's Boris today?

He has a sore throat.

Now listen up, Tony,
we're playing

a high-stakes game here,
and I intend to win.

So enough of the drama
queen crap.

Kill the girl and frame
the Russians.

That is exactly what
we're doing, sir.

Sir, I do believe it's...
party time.

Here I come.

Ah.

It's all yours.

Oh, baby.

- Alert! Nuclear radiation detected.
- Tony, right, it's gotta be him.

What's the play?

Trace radiation detected
six kilometers away from here.

We will move to a bunker
if levels increase.

P.B., make sure
Brittany's secure.

We're on full alert.
Radiation detected.

Radiation. Great.

That's another thing off
my bucket list.

Radiation is at
Don Sanchez's warehouse.

I'll get an eye in the sky.

We've gotta get over
there right away.

Not in this traffic.

Oh, yes, in this
traffic, hotness.

Maxim, Colonel and his A-team

locking the whole
neighborhood down.

Sir, how long before the
nuclear response team arrives?

Ten minutes, Maxim, not
that it's any of your concern.

Your job is to secure the girl.
I have got this covered.

If your partner needs anything,
have him return my damn lab.

Yes, sir, roger that.

Move. Go, go, go, go, go.

Everybody wait for
my command.

Come on, come on, come on,
get on with it already!

This is more boring
than your TV show.

Sir, the government
will just cover this up

if we don't get
media attention.

Fireworks will start
any minute, sir.

Just, uh, waiting on
the nuke response team.

Papa Bear,
I've got his location.

This is illegal restraint.

You spotted the bad guys
in my pictures.

You owe me.

Do not touch anything.
Stay put.

Okay.

An ambulance.

I said it before and
I'll say it again...

I like your style, Crackhead.

Papa Bear, I found
the actor's location.

On my way to neutralize.

Good timing, Baby Bear.

We're almost there.

Okay, stand back.

Hold it... worse than
thinking with your dick

is thinking with your gun.

That's my style, baby.

Big wooden crate, 10:00,
wasn't here before.

Who the hell called media?

Get those maggots outta here.

If they don't leave,
arrest them.

Get them out of here.
Out, out, out, out.

What the hell,
the news trucks are leaving.

I need a crisis, you moron.

Unbelievable.

You found something
you're worse at than acting.

Ragin' Asian here.
Forget the nuke team.

Get the party rockin' now.

Look who's back
for another dance.

Hey, guys, I'm not here
to fight you.

Oh, yes.

- Mm, ay, mami.
- Oh, baby.

- Where are you going?
- Huh?

I'm not finished.
Ah!

The first warehouse...
all units move in now.

Move in now.
Go, go, go, go.

Go, go, go, go, go.

I've got eyes
on the Porsche.

We have
an unexpected visitor.

Who's the friggin' mutant?

Same FSB guy who
lost the girl.

Go greet him.

FSB here. Everybody
stop shooting!

You're surrounded!

What the hell are
you two doing here?

- I can explain.
- Really?

Reading tons of C4,
over there.

Told you. Hey, everybody,
time out!

Goddamn it, stop shooting!

- You first!
- Katie?

Are those guns,
honey-bunny?

Hell, yes!

Sorry, Peaches.
I'll be right back.

I thought I was
imagining it

because you are
such a sex pistol.

Say hello to my little friend!

Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Not Don Sanchez.

Who we shooting at?

Two assholes up there.

That's not my guys.

That's better.

Now all we want is
to open that crate.

There is nothing in it

but prosciutto di Parma
and Murmansk salmon.

Actually, Wolfgang Schmuck,
there's enough C4 in there

to blow you all the way
back to Dumbshitistan.

Make a decision. Do you want
to be nothing

but Goon #3 all your life?

I thought I was Goon #3.

Shut up, idiots.

What? Why?

Why did... why didn't you
tell me?

I'll explain later.

Maxim, we found Brittany.

She is shackled to
a shit-ton of C4

with a detonator
controlled by remote.

You... where's Maxim?

Any idea who has the remote?

Um... yes.

And since we're all
in one piece,

Maxim must be there by now.

Everything is under control.

So I see it.

Don't move.

We can handle him.

Sit back and enjoy the show.

Do I have to ask?

You want that info,
come and get it.

He don't look handled
to me, Tony.

Where is the girl?

We know all about your plan
to crush the ruble

and buy them up
at distressed valuation.

Our knowing means
it won't work.

If he's saying that just
to piss me off, guess what?

It's working.

He's bluffing, sir.

I'm an expert on the topic.
He ain't bluffing.

Your size is no match for
the lethal weapon my body is.

Why do bad actors
talk too much?

Quit the grab-ass
and kill this bastard.

I'll be right back.

Maxim?

Where is she?

You wouldn't kill
an unarmed man.

You said your body's
a lethal weapon.

Interrogation skill I
learned from a friend of mine.

She's in Don Sanchez's
warehouse, surrounded by C4.

Where is the detonator?

My detonator's by
my computer.

Shaolin Cop!

Maxim? Maxim?

Maxim, do you copy?

Maxim, come in.

Katie?

Maxim, we found Brittany.
Do you copy?

Roger that.
All secure here.

You're dead.

Everyone you care about,
everyone you ever met. Dead.

He was wrong,
but you were right.

What the hell are
you talking about?

I never bluff.

Ah, Minister Orlav,
I'm so proud of our work today.

- Mm-hmm.
- Really, truly.

Agreed.

- Grandpa!
- Brittany!

And what happened to you?

Uh, Brittany gave me
a makeover.

She's turnt up.

If you say so.

So, how was Moscow?

Awesome, thank you
so much, Grandpa.

- What a great city.
- Aw.

People are so nice.

- Mm, I bet they are.
- The stowaway.

- My stowaway.
- Mm-hmm.

She's worth every
grey hair you have.

Ah-ha, thank you.

Come here, young lady.

Introduce me to
this young man.

This is Pavel Chernov.

Everyone who knows that Brittany
came to Moscow is in this room.

Just thinking
the same thing.

Don't give me reason
to hurt you.

Oh, please give me
a reason to shoot you.

Looks like P.B.'s gonna
stand for "prison bitch."

That's how I roll, Floyd.

I like your style.

Hey, guys.

I know babysitting
wasn't very exciting today,

but I appreciate
what you did.

Your hair, how did
you do that?

That is classified
Secret Service information.

If I told you, I would
have to kill you.

And I would also kill you
if you don't call me.

You remind me of Andrei.
You get results.

If that's the caliber of
line you're using with women,

there is no way
you're getting any.

I meant it as
a compliment.

Come on, have some
frog water.

Go ahead, drink up, chill out,
take another stab at it.

Will I... what's the word...
"get any"?

One way to find out.

We're gonna have to
work on that.

Come over here.

Look at that
maximum-sized playa.

Oh, damn, amigo, our
little girl's all grown up.

Mm-hmm.

And yeah, but a lot later.

Hey, broheims, check it.

Uh, this is Secretary Jacobs.

Listen, Tits McGee,
how about I come over there

and give that sweet-acular
bootie a cat bath?

Mr. Robinson, no stinky shit
or pootie-tang this time?

Uh, I...

Cheers.

I mean, I was just...

All during a dramatic,
top-secret international summit,

you're telling me
nothing went wrong?

Textbook assignment.

Business as usual.

Could have phoned it in.

I did actually phone it in.

How about all the rumors we
are hearing? A rocket attack,

an attempted kidnapping?

People make shit up.

Can I say "shit" on TV?

I'm cool, as long
as I can shit.

As am I.

I mean, "shit"
just about sums it up.

Yeah, shit happens.

Or didn't happen,
in this case.

Tell me the truth. Is this
some sort of cover-up?

Absolutely not.

We believe in
total transparency.

Us, too.

I mean, would the American
government ever lie to you?

Was Brittany Jacobs in Moscow?

Who?

Why would a little girl
ever be at a summit meeting?

What? No, man.

She's in private school,
damn it.

Do you know how old
this girl is? She's, like, six.

I don't know, hard to
tell with her nose

buried in her schoolbooks
all the time.

Get an education, kids.

Get your exercise.

You smelly little
rat bastard.

Damn, that was harsh, girl.

I... I want you to be
harsh to me now. Mm.

I'll eat your eyeballs.

Holy Maria.

Back to the story.

So, how about dinner?

- Stop it.
- Sorry.

You were saying?

Excuse me.

Yes?

I lost a billion-dollar deal
because of you,

but the game's
just getting started.

You wanna play?

Let's play.

Subtitles by explosiveskull

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