All language subtitles for diarra.from.detroit.s02e07.1080p.web.h264-cakes_track3_[eng]

DIARRA: We actually are
the ghetto goonies.

Cartier's psycho ass wants
a lead that we don't have.

- Help, help!
- Our only witness is

in the wind,
and Chris said we need to talk.

Oh, dear God.

Complimentary snow globe.

I know who the Coney Killer is.

- I want all of you.
- I can't.

And I get it.
Gotta take it slow, right?

Yes.

You stole my Chinese hair.

Females in Detroit.

If you ever speak of me,

I will set your life on fire,
Ms. Brickland.

- Hey!
- It's cool. He's with me.

Said you needed more muscle
around here. Meet Om.

Blair, Michigan?

[zapping]

DIARRA: "Keep your wits. You may
have inherited my enemies."

- Okay...
- Okay...

[screaming]

You dating the muscle arm nigga
before you break up with cuz,

it's just you doing shit
in a fucked up order.

DIARRA: Your cousin is trying
to break up with me.

RON: I need the scroll.

DIARRA: You let Erma walk me
and Chris into a nightmare?

[grunting]

Won't have to worry
about her anymore.

Oh, whoa.

She was Erma's hired muscle.

- Give us what you found.
- Go to Union Trust.

- Here you go.
- The old bank.

- [Diarra screams]
- Close this shit up.

Slippery little cunt
wants to die in a tomb? Fine.

DIARRA: Confession:

I try not to let villains
get under my skin.

But hours later, her whistling
was still ringing in my ear.

[Abigail whistling]

At least I knew who
the Coney Killer was.

Killer militia types
forcing me to flee

into the Underground Railroad
was giving me ancestral deja vu.

Fuck!

Fucking, fuck, fuck.

[screaming] Help!

[breathing heavily]

Oh, fuck.

[sobbing]

[heartbeat thudding]

- [gunshot]
- [screaming]

[thudding quickens]

[sobs]

I wasn't the first poor soul

to be down there
alone with my thoughts,

fears and the good Lord.

So I prayed.

To Jesus.

Oya. Oshun.

Whitney Houston.
Luther Vandross.

Michael Jackson.
Shit, even Joe Jackson.

Then Jesus again.

[mice scurrying]

And... crickets.

[laughs]

So I called on the ancestor
who got me into this mess.

Mmm.

Duncan Duckett.

Everyone who's gone looking for
your bitch-ass treasure is dead.

And then there's me.

[tearfully] I have passed
every one of your tests.

[sobs] I need you to help me.

[wind whistling]

And I swear, it was like
my brother sent me a clue...

a Masonic symbol etched
into the Underground Railroad.

Dunc wanted his sons
to become Masons.

Duh.

And so like
my ancestors before me,

I went north hoping for freedom.

REPORTER: The summer heat wave
shows no sign of letting up.

Now, in local news,

the escalating summer
violence has crept its way

into the quiet neighborhood
of Boston-Edison

with the murder
of museum curator Erma Beaumont

sending shockwaves
through the city.

As head of the Detroit
Preservation Society...

- [beep]
- CHARLENE: Yes, Mr. Harley?

- Charlene, get me the mayor.
- Right away, sir.

...her wealth of knowledge
on the lore of Detroit.

She will be sorely missed.

[ominous music]

Admit it, Shine.

You're afraid
I might win our little bet.

HARLEY: You're my laundromat,
Erma, not Lara Croft.

Maybe focus on cleaning my money
before you break a hip.

ERMA: Who is the one
trudging up the Detroit River

looking for clues
and found nothing but whiskey?

[both chuckling]

I met a nice militia lady online

who is currently
fetching my prize.

Who knew folks on
treasure hunting boards

would be so eager?

I'll believe it
when I see it, Erm.

Well, you're cranky today.

Guess the rumors are true.

What have you heard?

You overplayed your hand
with the mayor.

You asked too many favors
and it spooked him.

Jeff and I are in good standing.

City Hall kept you close
because you know

how to maintain order
on the streets.

But every headline
I read screams

that you lost control, old man.

[phone buzzing]

And you see,
this is why you're flailing.

- [clicks tongue] Young pussy.
- That's nothing.

I'd screw you,
but I don't wanna get the clap.

Negro, please. [chuckles]

You still are dreaming
about me, I'm sure.

- I do. It's called a nightmare.
- And so is this.

You just lost your first bet
in five years, didn't you?

This is not the time
to be doing favors.

I'm still in control.

Your power's slipping
and you're vulnerable, Shine.

- You are fucking cooked--
- I said I'm still in control.

Do not look at me
with those evil eyes.

I'm the only motherfucker alive
who knows you without that mask.

[phone buzzing]

No work tonight.

No mask.

So you really think you're
closing in on the treasure?

[laughs] Yes, I am.

Looks like I'm gonna
win that bet.

Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah.

- [beep]
- CHARLENE: Sir,

I still can't get the mayor.

Coming up next, gang shooters on
social media tagging King Pump.

Authorities worry
this is an all-out gang war.

ERMA: Told ya.

[chuckles]

What the fuck are you
going to do now, Shine?

DIARRA: What the fuck
was I gonna do?

And why had going north sent me
into another fucking maze?

Being lost in those tunnels
was starting to feel like

a metaphor for my love life.

This is crazy.

Running in circles,
hitting dead ends,

and I had no idea
how to move forward.

DUNCAN: You're lost.

[echoing] Follow me.

DIARRA: Maybe I was just
hungry as shit and delirious.

Or maybe I really
summoned a spirit guide

by gathering up
everything I knew about...

[jazz music playing]

And suddenly, he showed up.

And his whole operation
came into view.

DUNCAN: We started off
digging sewers.

Digging sewers.

DIARRA: Dunc must have used his
knowledge of digging up sewers

to revamp the
Underground Railroad

into an underground
whiskey-running superhighway.

MAN: Dunc was
a rum runner gangster!

Gangster, gangster!

DIARRA: And of course he had
the help of a brotherhood

that knew how to keep a secret.

MASTER: All your brothers
can help you carry the load.

ERMA: Duncan Duckett
was a devoted family man,

a prominent deacon.

DIARRA: So Dunc would have
known that during slavery,

the church used the tunnels
to smuggle runaways to Canada.

So during Prohibition,

he decides to smuggle whiskey
in the opposite direction.

And then he probably
walked that shit

right out the front door
without anyone being the wiser.

Right into the hands
of the Purple Gang.

And everything ran
in perfect order.

So all I had to do was follow
the remnants of his operation.

Every Masonic symbol,
every broken whiskey bottle,

every splash of water told me

I was perhaps getting closer
to the Detroit River.

DUNCAN: To cross
the Detroit River into freedom.

DIARRA: Until I was
suddenly pulled

by a scent
visceral and familiar.

Maybe Dunc wanted me
to take a detour.

[dance music playing]

WOMAN: I'm like, take back your
ring and your weak-ass stroke.

I'm not settling. I want it all.

- [thud]
- You feel that?

I know we not getting
earthquakes in Detroit.

Girl, no. There are no
earth-shaking niggas out here.

- [thudding]
- Oh!

- [clattering]
- [record scratch]

- What the--
- Oh, hell no.

DIARRA: I knew I had smelled
something familiar.

I ordered the crab cakes.

DIARRA: Crispy
fucking crab cakes.

- [people muttering]
- It felt like a sign

that Dunc wanted me
to admit what I was feeling.

[woman gasp] Nigga,
bitch is climbing out the wall.

Fuckin' Tommy's Gun.
[panting] Oh, shit.

Oh, snap, my bad.

Royce's offer had become
my true north,

and I wanted to accept it.

You know, ladies... [panting]

...I have found a truly
earth-shaking nigga in Detroit.

You will find your person.

Who the fuck are you?

DIARRA:
In the absence of Booker,

maybe I was
Dunc's spiritual heir.

After a night in his world,

I saw Tommy's Gun
for what it really was.

The Purple Gang might have
hung out from time to time,

but Tommy's Gun was
connected to a Black church

and had a chessboard
for a floor.

This was his place.

And if the Purples
bogarted his hangout

and got rich off his tunnels...

no wonder he robbed
their asses blind.

And he led me to
his final resting place

to impart something important.

DUNCAN: You cannot be true
to two sweethearts.

DIARRA: Dunc, it's complicated.

DUNCAN: Complicated
don't ever end well.

DIARRA: Dunc hadn't just come
to guide me out of the tunnels,

but out of the labyrinth
of my heart as well.

His letter did say,
"To my queen," not "to my wife."

What if the letter was to
his side piece and her son?

Ma'am.

My dearest queen, do not fret.

All will be made whole
when my son becomes my brother.

DIARRA: In case
his heist failed,

he meant to leave behind a test

that might bring
his two sons together.

But the person meant to deliver
that message never arrived.

If she had, they would've found
two bodies instead of one.

Which meant for all his talk
about his enemies,

his disgruntled queen must've
tipped off the Purples.

- [thud]
- [man shouting]

[gunfire]

Which meant his enemy,
as it turned out,

was the mess he created.

[solemn music]

Dunc was authentically
two things,

but maybe he wanted
his heirs to be just one:

men of honor.

BOOKER: He said only
a worthy man, a man of honor,

will hold the fortune.
If he wasn't,

the treasure will kill your ass.

DIARRA: That went for Dunc,
and that went for me too.

Dunc's spirit was still looking
for an heir willing to clean up

and walk the path
that he never got to.

And I knew the next right step
was to break up with Chris

because I wanted
something different.

Honor was simple...

and complicated.

Rarely ended well.

After surviving a night
on the Underground Railroad,

I was feeling both
Negro and spiritual.

♪ Wade in the water ♪

♪ Boom, boom, oh, wade ♪

I'd graduated from
trauma showers to trauma baths.

Given their length,
it seemed more eco-friendly.

♪ Wade in the water ♪

♪ Boom, boom,
God's gonna trouble the water ♪

♪ Ooh, wade in the water ♪

♪ Wade in the water, children ♪

♪ Wade in the water ♪

♪ Uh, uh,
God's gonna trouble the water ♪

- ♪ Uh, uh
- Dee.

Dee. We're worried.

Right, but Dee, Dee...

Dee! What happened?

I got tased.
Mac is in the hospital.

And Erma's death
is all over the news.

- We need answers.
- RAQUEEBA: Tell us already.

What the fuck
happened down there?

Clarity.

Clarity happened down there.

I told them about
my wild night in the tunnels

and Dunc's marching orders.

But the thing is,
we gotta get our shit in order

in order to be worthy
of that treasure.

The fuck? My shit is in order.

Kinda.

Dee, are you trying to normalize
having meetings in the bathroom?

'Cause I can't take you serious

with your little titties
floating around.

All right, fuck you.
Hand me my towel.

No. Half the world's in
a water shortage. Enjoy that.

[exhales]

Grab onto it. We put Lisa's
broke shit in the basement...

DIARRA: There comes a point
in the midst of summer

where you realize if
you missed your spring cleaning,

you won't make it till fall.

And so we cleaned up.

Hell, even my board
got a makeover.

AJA: Erma was never
at the Coney.

She was using hired muscle,
who showed up in her mask.

And the real killer
is Militia Bitch.

AJA: How do you know
that she's militia?

RAQUEEBA: Dee said
they had assault rifles

like they were
prepping for doomsday.

They were whistling Dixie
and they were from upstate.

Yes, and now that Erma's dead,
Militia Bitch is off the leash.

We know they repping
Blair, Michigan.

Right.

It wasn't lost on me
that Blair was also home

to another Coney victim,
Quaker Oats Man.

Drove down from Blair, Michigan.

Any of y'all ever heard of it?

- Blair, Michigan?
- Nope.

Should we mention that Danger
was with the folks from Blair?

- She can't handle it.
- What y'all say about Blair?

- No, no.
- No.

We said that Ron's death,
uh, wasn't fair.

Yeah. Hate he went out
like that. It's crazy.

Crazy? I'm gonna have
to tell Mac when he gets

out of the hospital that
his ex-stepdaddy is dead

and locked in a tomb.

Yeah, Mac will be all right.

Don't nobody love
their step-parents like that.

Hey, I like my stepdad.

Fine!
We'll get justice for Ron too.

Even though he fucking sucked.

All right. I have a plan.

Oh. Plan. Death wish. Go.

We need to find
the gold first, okay?

Then we use it to lure
Militia Bitch into a sting

and take her down
for the Coney murders.

Except for the fact that
they took our damn clue.

Diarra,
we can't even find the gold.

How are we supposed to lure
that bitch into a sting?

It's true the militia
stole our clue, but...

they don't know Dunc like we do.

Exactly.
He did everything in twos.

So two keys, two sons, two hoes.

- They only have half a clue.
- Mm-hmm.

Okay, so where's the other half?

Um...

[eerie music]

Tell me when you see it.

So on the painting,
one son had the scroll,

the other one had the lantern.

Hmm. Oh, I remember that.

All right, here we go.

[grunts]

[singing angelically]

[laughing]

"Our traditions
are sewn together."

What does that mean?

So now Duncan Donuts
is the Riddler?

I swear I'm about sick
of this Negro.

She don't mean it, Dunc.

I wasn't his descendant,

but Dunc was rooting
for the ghetto goonies.

Okay,
so Dunc's tunnels connected

Trinity and Tommy's Gun.

Two halves of him made one man.

So maybe...

And it was a good thing
I remembered

the other half of the message.

...these two halves
make one message?

RAQUEEBA: "Go to Union Trust.

"Our traditions
are sewn together."

[gasps] Oh,
the old Union Trust building.

It once was a bank,
but now it's a Starbucks.

Right, that's why
I sent Militia Bitch there

to get a Frappuccino
instead of my gold.

But Dunc's sons would know

that Black folks
don't trust no banks.

My granddaddy still had
money under his mattress.

- Mm-hmm.
- RAQUEEBA: You know,

Sela writes her diary
in code in case I read it.

You read her diary?

Privacy is for
people who pay rent.

And I decode the hell
out of her shit.

- Let me see.
- Okay, so decode, hoe.

All right...

Okay, if he's not saying
go to the bank,

then maybe it's
"Go to Union," period,

"Trust our traditions
are sewn together."

Yes.

He's saying fuck the bank.

Bank on our traditions.

And what are those? Drinking?

- Disappearing?
- AJA: Dying?

[intriguing music]

BOOKER: She taught me
how to pray, you know?

She taught me how to sew.

Quilting.

Dunc's next clue
is on his quilt.

And his quilt is in the nursery
at Trinity Rose Baptist Church.

- On the wall.
- Right next to Dunc's desk.

- Mm-hmm.
- I'll get it.

DIARRA: Dunc was whispering,

"You're almost there,
almost worthy."

No, no, you have had enough
adventure at Trinity, Harriet.

- Stand down.
- [scoffs]

If y'all gon' call me Harriet
Tubman, I need a shotgun.

[door slams]

I thought the right order was
to get Chris out of jail first,

then broke up with him.

But truth was, I was just
dragging out the inevitable.

I mean, the next time he calls,
I gotta let it happen.

- It's over.
- How are you gonna keep from

getting re-dick-matized
when you see Chris?

Ooh, good question.

Um, well, first of all,
I'm not gonna have sex with him.

- Okay.
- And I'm-- you know,

I'm focused on Royce.

He's an adult
who wants what I want.

Jesus wept. You able to cut
your feelings off like that?

Yeah. I mean... [scoffs]

...feelings are like children,
you know?

You just gotta wrangle 'em
in the right direction.

[laughing]

How can you rationalize
one relationship after another,

but when I had a crush
on Harley, you shat on it?

- I didn't shit on it.
- You shat on it.

What,
you don't want me to be happy?

You-- you wanna
put shit in order?

Let's have us a real talk.

He's shady.

He's highly respected.

- That don't mean he not shady.
- Harley hasn't answered

not one of my calls
since he stood me up.

Why do I feel like you had
something to do with that?

I had nothing to do with that.

He's fucking crimey.

Diarra,
you are the one that's crimey.

You've committed, like,
a dozen crimes this summer.

For a good cause. Besides,
that's completely different.

- [phone ringing]
- Jesus.

Oh, shit.
It's unlisted. It's Chris.

It's Chris. We're breaking up.

Hold my hand, please. Thank you.

A peace came over me.

I was ready for a clean break.

- Hello?
- BOOKER: I know you aren't

gonna believe me, but
I'm sorry I walked out on you.

- [thud]
- Ow! [panting]

Booker?

Dunc had told me to tidy up,

but Booker was a loose end
I wasn't counting on.

Where the fuck are you?

[rustling]

- Hello?
- ABIGAIL: Booker can't talk.

Just wanted you to know
he's still alive.

DIARRA: I knew right away
it was Militia Bitch.

ABIGAIL: I swore you were dead,

but Booker said you had
some brains on you.

Well, that makes one of us.

I bet you figured out Union
Trust ain't even a bank no more.

I need to know
what the clue means.

- I don't know what it means.
- Bullshit!

Tell me where the treasure is,

or the kid starts losing
toes, eyes, teeth.

- One hour.
- Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!

I swear to God,
I don't know what it means!

- [click]
- Hello?

- Oh, fuck!
- What happened?

DIARRA:
They were covering Dunc's desk

in quilt in record time, but--

How much more time do we have?

- About three minutes.
- [groans] This fucking kid.

DIARRA: That's all the time
we had to solve Dunc's next clue

and save Booker's
fingers and toes.

Pastor Cecil
thought it was junk.

Told me I could take whatever
I wanted from the nursery.

Yeah, as long as she promised
to never, ever show

- her face again at Trinity.
- Okay, so during slavery,

quilts like these
had hidden messages

- to direct runaways, right?
- Yeah, you did

- a whole lesson plan on it.
- So one of these patches

has to mean "Union,"
"Go to Union."

What the fuck is a union?

Uh-- Oh, oh, oh! A cross.

- Ooh, a tree!
- RAQUEEBA: Gabrielle Union!

Yes! Gabrielle Union,

the runaway with
perfectly laid edges.

Girl, this is Harriet Tubman.

Ugh. Well,
I guess Dunc couldn't count,

'cause he's missing some stars.

Oh my God, y'all.
I think I'm solving a clue.

This is how the flag
used to be on the, um...

During the Civil War.
It's the Union flag.

Scissors.
There's something in here.

I was gonna say that.
You knew I was gonna say that.

- Uh-huh, uh-huh.
- No! You are not cutting up

this Negro artifact.
I won't let you. It's history.

Are you crazy?
I will sew it back together.

Heffa,
you can't even boil water.

Now you Suzy Homemaker?

Raqueeba, give me
the goddamn scissors!

- Damn, girl.
- Okay.

Okay.

[laughing]

Hello, Mr. Knight.

So is this helping us,

or are we just collecting
full set chess pieces?

Not a full set.

Just four.

Hold on.

So, on the painting,

there are four pieces
in play, right?

We got two queens...

a knight...

- and a castle.
- TEA: Okay.

Let's say we find the castle.
Then what?

RAQUEEBA: Yeah, what do the
four chess pieces even mean?

DIARRA: That's when I realized
the four pieces had to go

on Dunc's board, and only then
would it reveal

the final resting spot
of Dunc's gold.

So we only need one more piece.

DIARRA: That would be
our checkmate.

- What? What is it?
- Um...

Could it be...

- Oh, shit.
- Maybe it's in the pattern?

[phone chimes]

- On the top?
- TEA: Dee.

- What?
- The Militia.

They wanna meet you... alone.

Now.

[tense music]

Time's up.

[tense music playing]

Hey, hey, hey, hey.

I really feel like
I should go in there with you.

They said alone, Tea.

Oh, fuck.

You're coming back alive.

- Okay?
- Okay.

Okay.

♪

Okay.

You're not back in five minutes,
I'm calling the cops.

♪

DIARRA: This was my chance
to clean up everything.

[exhaling]

Why was he always
entangled in my mess?

[Carl clears throat]

Why was he alive
and hadn't even told me?

And why was he part of
the Militia Bitch brigade?

- Are you okay?
- Yeah. I'm okay.

I was talking to the kid, rando.

He's terrific.
We gave him fruit snacks.

Where's the gold?

The next clue leads to
an old motel near Rouge Park.

There's an old furnace.

Union brand.

The treasure's underneath.

Boss says you have to go with.

Make sure
you ain't bullshittin'.

I'm not going nowhere
until you let the kid go.

CARL: That's not how this works.

You ain't dictating terms,
bitch!

- [gunshots]
- DIARRA: Oh, fuck!

[intense music]

Let's go! Now! Come on!

The fuck, Diarra?
I was just calling the cops.

- DIARRA: Don't call the cops!
- TEA: Danger?

Who the fuck is this white lady?

No, no, no, no, no.
We don't have room for--

- She's with me.
- Okay, Booker, get in the car.

No, these two were the getaway
drivers for the kidnappers!

Those fucks didn't
give us a choice, okay?

Hey. Hey!
Where the fuck have you been?

How about "thank you for
saving my life, again"?

- Oh, okay. Wow--
- Who are these people?

Am I getting in this car or not?

- Fuck this.
- NO, I'm sorry, bitch.

Whoa, whoa, no.

No, no, no, no.
I need that drone.

I am so sick of this shit.

You sick? Man, since I met you,
I've been shot at, kidnapped--

You're the one who
organized that auction

and brought out all the crazy,
so don't put that shit on me.

Dee! We gotta go.

Everybody shut the fuck up
and get in the damn car now!

[upbeat music playing]

I was never gonna
give you up to Cartier.

Never.

Thanks for coming for me.

I didn't think you would do it.

Yeah, well, I got this bet going
that you're actually a good kid.

I don't like to lose, so.

I wanna give you the drone.

But I need the money.

I need to get out.

[Diarra sighs]

What does it unlock?

Something else in the desk,
but I need one more piece.

Do you know if anybody
ever tampered with

that old quilt at Trinity?

- The quilt in the nursery?
- Yeah.

My gran the one who restored it
in the '80s, I think.

- After the fire.
- Are y'all really talking

- about quilts?
- I'm sorry, Danger.

I'm not talking to
kidnappers right this sec.

TEA: Okay, Dee,
we're all paid up. Let's go.

Look, we need to look through
your granny's stuff.

Ron sold a lot of her shit
secondhand when she passed.

So somebody sitting on
a chess piece worth millions.

[scoffs] Could be anywhere.

Could be in
a junkyard somewhere.

Facts.

Why do people fill
their houses with junk?

When you first went to Lisa's
job to find info on the desk,

you went there
for a reason, right?

Ron had the car.

It was the only
secondhand shop that I knew.

Did you know "tchotchkes"
is Yiddish for "useless"?

- DANGER: Is that true?
- DIARRA: Mmm, I don't know.

I think a chest piece
worth millions

is sitting in a bin
full of tchotchkes for $4.99.

Not tracking all this, but
we need to get off the street.

I'll check the furniture store.

- I'll go with you.
- DIARRA: No, no.

You are liable to get kidnapped.

I'm very familiar
with your type.

Tea will drop us off
at the house on the way.

Those shirts are
fucking terrible.

Dee!

- Diarra!
- Queeba.

- Diarra...
- Please don't ask me

who this white girl is
until I've had a drink.

Okay?

[mouthing]

You roll deep, Private Pussy.

- We was just leaving.
- CARTIER: Nah, nah, nah.

I ain't turning nobody loose
until I get what I came for.

- Mr. Kelly...
- I was just giving you space

so that you could
follow my scalp.

DIARRA: All the bad guys
were drafting behind me.

I was almost flattered.

But I need my scalp today.

Actually, the streets need it.

Pump out here talking shit.

You seen this shit?

PUMP: Cartier is a bitch.

His nephew's killer
is still breathing.

I don't follow Pump.

Well,
folks out there need to know...

Cartier Kelly is still
not to be fucked with.

And I am this close to
taking it off your jailbird.

I found the Coney Killer.

And I can
deliver her to you today.

And that would be
"Militia Bitch"?

Yep. [sucks teeth]
Yep, yep, yep.

[laughs]
But I have had quite a day,

and I just really
don't appreciate the way

you rolled up in here.
You got your boots on my rug.

Your man here got his
dirty-ass paws in my cereal.

With your big goofy ass.

It's not cool.

At this point, I was
too exhausted to be scared.

Do I need to slap you again,
Private Pussy?

DIARRA: I don't know, do you?

You need to slap me again?

- [crashing]
- Fuckin' do it!

Or... you could sit
your Black ass down,

take off your goddamn shoes,

and have a drink while I arrange

to have your scalp delivered.

♪

I like my drink
with one ice cube.

BOOKER: Cartier looks like
he know my face.

- No. No, no, no.
- He used to come watch me

and Surge play football
when we was little.

He doesn't know, okay?

You just gotta
keep your mouth shut

and don't look him in the eye.

CARTIER: Where's my drink,
Private Pussy?

DIARRA: It took Cartier
five minutes

to pry off his hot-ass
motorcycle boots.

His feet filled the whole house
with the smell of corn chips.

And feeling right at home,
he demanded a home-cooked meal.

Bailey volunteered.

I made the call. It's on.

DIARRA: She also volunteered
to help me with my new plan.

[hushed] This is gonna work.
Trust me.

You gotta fight fire with fire.

That's literally
not how you fight fire.

You fight fire with water.

Okay, semantics, Aja.

Who the hell
that white girl thinks she is?

She just offers
to cook dinner for us all?

She got a lot of fucking nerve.

She was just being nice, y'all.
Damn.

Yeah, she's super nice. Oh,
except for that little moment

where she blew
somebody's head off.

Wait a minute,
she killed somebody?

Yes, just "Pop-pop!"

AJA: No way, oh no.

You know, besides the fact
that she's a killer...

I guess she's just one of them
cool-ass white girls.

I hate that shit.
What is he doing with her?

- What do you even care?
- I don't care.

Okay, because your feelings
are all wrinkled towards Royce.

And you got your shit
in order, right?

Yes. I just think it's weird.

Oh, well, I mean, he has
been living that farm life.

What you mean?

Um... Tea just mentioned

something about him
living on a farm, so...

What?

And you weren't gonna tell me?

Oh, shit.

- Well, what, are you jealous?
- No, I'm not jealous.

I just think it's fucked up

that y'all would
keep that shit from me.

- What? Me?
- Yes, you!

It's fucked up, Aj.

You have lost your mind.

- Bailey!
- [scoffs]

I'ma help you with the food.

Oh, you gon' help her
with the food?

The fuck?
Can you believe that shit?

Girl,
there are niggas with guns.

- Please emotionally regulate.
- [scoffs]

DIARRA: Order went
out the window.

Every mess was exposed.

Both of y'all niggas...

look familiar.

DIARRA: So I decided
to use chaos as a weapon.

Look away, Dunc.

This shit gonna get wild.

[rap music playing]

PUMP: Yeah, what up, though,
Chief? How you doing my boy?

Chief, I knew you was
coming to see me.

[chuckles] What's the deal?
Where we going?

Dinner? Dancing--

You need to end this war.

Not escalate it.

F Mob and Gratiot Kings
were taking themselves out.

Now, a smart man hangs back
and lets 'em.

But you jump in the middle.

Everybody was
talking about them.

I had to put
something on my name.

[sighs]

You know how Velvet
reigned for so long?

She was a ghost.

She made her lieutenants think

they were running
their own gangs,

but the whole time
she was eating off their plate,

creating an ecosystem of order,
and she did it with a whisper.

Brightmoor wasn't even me.

It was the Gratiot Kings.

Yeah, you the dumb fuck
shooting downtown.

You think people wanna take
their wives out to dinner

or buy one of my condos
in a war zone?

- But--
- It was rhetorical.

Now,
you gonna stay a noisy problem,

we ain't gon' be good partners.

Being quiet...

is the same thing as being dead.

[chuckles]

King Pump in this bitch.

[overlapping chatter]

Might be time for
a new partner, boss.

[phone buzzing]

Let's roll.

Come on.

[groans]

- Cuzzo.
- Mmm.

My mom-cation is over.

Hmm?

- Sela's out of camp tomorrow.
- No.

I gotta get these braids
out my head.

I gotta be at the bank
on Monday.

- No.
- And I am a damn hostage, Dee.

I'm done with
the ghetto goonies.

I'm sorry.

I got real responsibilities.

I can't promise to
keep this out the family chat

if I'm not out of here
in an hour.

Okay. All right.
Just wait for my signal.

I'ma get you out. Okay?

- And then get yourself out.
- Mm-hmm.

[tense music]

What's this shit called again?

Risotto.

Right.
Fancy name for wet rice.

Actually,
it's slightly different prep.

- [Cartier grunts]
- You take the...

[phone buzzing]

CARTIER: Hey.

[buzzing continues]

[clears throat] Hello?

Um, I'm sorry,
she's currently unavailable.

But I can take a message.
Mm-hmm.

Okay.

Understood.
I'll be sure to let her know.

Thank you.

Your stolen hair
has been returned,

and the thieves
apparently washed it

in lavender and hibiscus.

And the girl said,

"Won't he do it?"

Oh. Yes, he will.

- [clerk] We're closing soon.
- Okay, well, one sec, please.

One second.

Fuck.

Fuck.

[chuckling]

It was probably
never really stolen.

- It was stolen.
- It was probably for prom.

- It was stolen.
- And then brought it back.

The Chinese hair
was soaked in liquid cocaine.

- Oh, shit.
- Okay, stop.

No offense,
but that don't even make sense.

My business,
we don't partake in that.

Wait, that tracks.

'Cause customs flagged it
for being too heavy.

Yeah. Because it was weighed
down by the liquid cocaine.

Church lady tweaking out.

She really was high
as a Georgia pine.

- Cocaine.
- Mary got the bundles from me

before the hair got stolen
and the cocaine got washed out.

Wasn't washed out.
They had to chemically treat it

in order to turn it
back into powder.

This was a pro.

DIARRA: So I'm just trying to
follow the math on this one.

So Priest wasn't
even in the picture

when the cocaine hair
got shipped, so...

- He's still a good guy.
- DIARRA: A very good guy

who you just cussed out
for no reason. Damn, Aj.

Seemed like you fucked
that one up all on your own.

You know, maybe you don't
want you to be happy.

DIARRA: Either way, it sounds
like your Yacht Club homegirl

is a drug dealer.

Mmm. Don't you just hate that?

Secrets.

But you know them
Yacht Club types.

Whoo! They just crimey.

[phone ringing]

Come on, man. Damn.

Royce.

- This about my scalp?
- No, that's just someone

who wants to take me to dinner.

Very unrelated.

Phones.

Phones, phones, phones!

Fuck is wrong with y'all?

- Damn right.
- Why you going to dinner

- if Chris is in jail?
- Are you serious?

Why aren't you
minding your business, Om?

Yeah, why aren't you
minding your business, Om?

Okay, all right,
y'all sort your shit out.

I'm gonna get seconds.

Who knew that wet rice
was so delicious?

Y'all got some shit to sort out?

- They might.
- DIARRA: Nope.

Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.

You know, I just wanna know--

You know what? Nope.

- I wanna know.
- DIARRA: What's to know?

It was just
a couple of massages, right?

Wasn't worth mentioning,
"Oh, you know, by the way,

"I might not be dead."
Wasn't worth that.

Oh, okay. So the massages
are just for everybody?

I heard you give great massages,
and I'm so fucking tense--

Listen,
I'm not talking about this here.

- Okay.
- Okay?

Don't talk. I'll talk.

Aja,
we're supposed to be Masons.

Brothers. We don't keep secrets.

Why didn't you tell me
that Om here wasn't dead?

- You don't keep secrets?
- DIARRA: No.

Well, how about this secret
you kept, brother?

My homegirl works
in Harley's office.

I ain't wanna believe it,
but she said that

she saw you there
in the middle of night.

Said that you definitely got
that check, so I'm thinking,

"Hmm, if my best friend has this
check of such a large amount,

"even with all the taxes
and the lawyer fees

"that you said you had to pay,

"why wouldn't she help me out
just a little bit?"

DIARRA: I'd spent
the last three weeks

trying to forget Harley
like he'd asked.

But Aja wouldn't stop pushing.

What happened
with you and Harley?

- Drop it.
- AJA: What happened?

Why is it so hard
for you to say it?

Aja, I'm gonna need
for you to drop it.

- No! What is it?
- He will fucking--

CARTIER: Damn!

This shit is riveting.

But... [clears throat]

...where's my scalp?

She will be at Mariner Park by
the lighthouse in ten minutes.

DIARRA: I was tired of
facing off against bad guys.

It was time for them
to face off with each other.

Thought you were
bringing her to me.

It's a five-minute drive.

What, you want me
to drop her in your lap, Santa?

She got you your scalp, man.

Why don't you just head out?

What-- what was
your name again? Oom?

Om. You don't know him.
He's from up north.

I been had this nigga pegged
as a Detroit nigga

from the second I seen him.

You wanna know how
I know that, risotto girl?

The two guns forming a cross?

[chuckles] That's old school
Woodward Boys.

That was another life.

You must have run
with Velvet and them.

What'd they used to call you?

Speak up, man. I can't hear you.

They called me Danger.

Danger?

The streets say
you a bad motherfucker.

You're on the top
of Pump's hit list.

You, Roman...

and the Preacher
in the classic Chevy.

DIARRA: Suddenly,
it made sense why holy men

were being attacked
all over the city.

They were actually looking
for the "Teacher," me.

Did you kill my nephew, Danger?

Nah, man.

What about you, risotto girl?

DIARRA: No.

I'm not talking to you.

What about you, big-ass mute?

Fuck do I know you from, nigga?

Did I fuck your moms? Huh?

'Cause you look like
a nigga whose mom I fucked.

Well.

[doorbell chimes]

[doorbell chimes]

We got somebody at the door.
You gonna get it?

Yeah, I'll get the door.

[doorbell chimes]

But all my carefully
orchestrated order

went out the window,
because I was missing

one very crucial piece
of information.

[tense music]

- You're a cop.
- Sheriff, actually.

Which, not to brag,
is a bigger deal.

I had to win an election.

We're supposed to meet
at the lighthouse.

I didn't care for that plan.

- This who killed Surge?
- She's police.

- You cannot touch her.
- ABIGAIL: Bailey.

Thanks for the call.

You're still on the hook
for Carl and Moose.

DIARRA: She wore her badge
like armor.

You know what?

Why don't I give you two
the floor? We gotta clean up.

Where the fuck you think
you going, Private Pussy?

Right here.

Raqueeba,
get everyone out the back.

Bailey, give me a drink.

CARTIER: Private Pussy,
come back over here.

- Right here.
- Nice to see you again.

Seems like we can't
get away from each other.

Okay. Hey, hey.

Don't talk to him. Talk to me.

Okay.

Where's my treasure?

- I don't have it.
- You ain't got no claim.

Duncan ain't leave it for
no Ypsy-tucky-ass sheriff.

Wasn't for him to say.

Thanks. Stay close by.
In the '30s,

the Purples used our farm out
in Blair as their stash house.

Killed any man that
didn't go along with 'em.

Burned all their crops.

A share of that gold was
promised to the community

to make things right.

When Duncan Duckett
robbed them...

he robbed us.

I can hear violins playing.

The head of the Purples
died in the penthouse

of the Cadillac Hotel
and we got nothing.

Duncan took that money

to settle the score
for all the Black men

who built the Purples empire
and died broke.

DIARRA: I was impressed.

Cornchips Feet knew as much
about Detroit history as I did.

Why don't y'all
take this shit outside?

I mean, y'all are both
history enthusiasts.

This is all very interesting.

So, Sheriff...

did you kill my nephew
that night at the Coney?

It's hard to say who killed who.

- That Coney was a mess.
- DIARRA: She was admitting it.

But I needed her out
before she fingered Booker too.

Okay, outside, now.
Both of y'all.

- He was only 23.
- And that is tragic.

But you aren't getting it.

That gold belongs to me.

Think you're some
big, scary gangsta?

You don't know
the true power of this badge.

I don't have to charge you.
I can label you a terrorist.

Put you in a hole.
No light, no heat.

Make my men beat on you.

[laughing] Damn,
it's damn near legal.

I have broken
the toughest motherfucker--

- [gunshot]
- [Diarra exclaims]

[gunshots]

What'd you say, bitch?

I can't fucking hear you.

You got something to say, hoe?

I'd piss on you, but you don't
deserve to see my dick.

[exhales]

[smooches]

You gonna find me my treasure.

What? I--

I got you your scalp.
I thought we had a deal.

I think I need that gold...

in order to help me forget
everything that I know.

Like, Danger lives,

and that other person
that Pump is looking for

isn't the preacher,
but a teacher

who drives a classic
mint-condition Chevelle.

How do you even know
I'm a teacher?

'Cause I Googled you.

That gold's the only thing
keeping you and your crew alive,

so find that shit, quick!

Grab my boots, nigga.

F Mob out.

DIARRA: That's when
I realized that order

was out of the fucking question.

Mess was gonna have to be
one of my virtues.