Original subtitles

COMPUTER: Agent Sterling Archer, code name Duchess.

License to kill.

Primary skills: covert operations..-

...unarmed combat, firearms, explosives...

...asset acquisition, enemy agent disposal.

Current status: missing.

MALORY: For three months.

Sterling's been missing for three months and you idiots have nothing.

Well name-calling's not gonna get us--

Anywhere. Which is where Archer could be.

Malory, we've checked every safe house, run down every lead.

And he hasn't touched any of his bank accounts, so unless he-- Oh.

Were you gonna say, "Unless he's been skimming cash...

...from his operations accounts all these years"?

Yeah, duh, right? He wouldn't dare steal from me.

Oh, please, we all--

Think he would dare to do that.

So we've got a highly-ish skilled covert agent...

...who probably has millions of dollars in cash.

Who doesn't want to be found.

Being looked for by people who don't want to find him.

Whatever. Meaning whom?

Oh, don't give me that. You're all secretly delighted that he's gone.

Well, I wouldn't say delighted, but-- I cannot say I miss the bullying.

Me neither. Plus ISIS actually turned a profit this quarter.

Be that as it--

No, never mind.

Because since you've all been half-assedly phoning it in--

Malory, he can't be found. I mean, if he's even still, um...

Still what? Alive.

Jeez. Ow. Talk about "duh." I bet he already totally killed himself.

No, he didn't. What's wrong with you?

Nothing. Because my skeevy Russian fiancée...

...wasn't murdered in front of my very eyeballs at my stupid wedding.

ARCHER: No!

Katya!

No! BARRY: Whoo!

How's that feel, Archer, huh? Now both our weddings are canceled.

Barry!

Ha, ha, ha. Is that how you crash a wedding?

Yes, it is, Bionic Barry. Yes, it is.

No. No matter how distraught Sterling is over Katya, he won't kill himself.

He'd never do that to me.

He's alive somewhere, and since you fools can't find him...

...I called in someone who can.

Say hello to Rip Riley, manhunter.

Manhunter? Now, if that's not the pot calling the kettle black.

Oh, Rip, you old so-and-so. How are you, Mal? Besides gorgeous?

Oh, I'm not, I'm a mess. I'm worried half to death about Sterling, and--

Don't be. I tracked him down. What?

How? See?

Yeah, this new thing called intelligence gathering.

Anywho, he's on a little island called Wapuni in French Polynesia.

With his millions in cash.

Tending bar. Or not.

I'll pick him up tonight. Three days back to New York...

...so if you're not busy Friday night... I'll book us our old booth at 21.

Outstanding. Riley out.

What a hunk. Total sploosh.

Actually, yeah, gotta give him the sploosh.

And whatever my equivalent of sploosh is, which I guess is just sploosh.

Only with semen.

Oh, my God, I can't believe I just did that.

You know, I'm not like that-- ARCHER: No, hey, come on, don't do that.

Don't ruin your postcoital bliss with a bunch of misplaced guilt.

How is it misplaced? I'm on my honeymoon.

At least you got a honeymoon. My fiancée was murdered.

Wait, what? Yeah.

Oh, and you married an idiot.

Who plays 36 holes of golf on the first day of his honeymoon?

Not to, whatever, but that can't bode well for your marriage.

Get the hell out, you piece of shit!

Seriously, I hope she didn't sign a prenup, because-- Oh, my God.

Ahem. Hey, so, what happened was somebody ordered room service...

...but the regular room-service guy, he died, so I came in here and then I fell on the bed.

Wait, you're not her husband.

And you're not one of my dick bosses, so can I help you?

Yes, you can quickly and quietly walk down to the dock and board my seaplane.

Okay, A, rhetorical, and, B, your what? Seaplane.

Looks like an airplane had a baby with a boat. Yeah, I know what a seaplane is.

Yet you're surprisingly unclear on the phrase "quickly and quietly."

And even more unclear on who you are.

Name's Rip Riley. Your mother hired me to bring you back, Sterling.

She what? I mean, who?

I'm Randy, see? So you can just go back to that other guy's mother...

...and tell her that even if you did find that other guy, he's never coming back to ISIS.

Wait, did you say ISIS or--? How did ISIS suddenly get in the mix, is what I'm asking.

I'm asking you for the last time to get on that plane.

You wanna try and make me, Rip? No, I don't.

And I promise--

You don't want that either.

ARCHER: Hey, so listen.

I think we got off on the wrong foot.

But I'm willing to, you know, let bygones be gone by the wayside.

Good to know. But I'm not there yet.

Well, give it some time. Speaking of, how long is this stupid flight?

RILEY: About 40 hours in the air. Hooray.

But I have to island-hop to refuel.

Old Lucy Goosey here only has a range of about a thousand nautical miles.

Yeah, making it wildly impractical. Got it.

This plane is totally practical.

For the ridiculous image you're trying to cultivate for yourself.

What image? Sky captain of yesteryear!

At least I'm not sky captain of "I ran away from home."

I didn't run away from home. I'm a grown man.

Whose fiancee was murdered in front of his very eyes.

So excuse me for needing some time to grieve.

By tending bar and banging newlyweds?

Apparently that's my grieving process.

And also I need to use the bathroom. A, it's called the head, and, B, no.

Pee in your pants. Yeah, wrong number.

And I've had nothing but liquor and mangoes for three months...

...so unless you wanna fly a thousand nautical miles sitting next to that--

Okay, I'm setting the autopilot.

But this better not be a ruse. Heh, heh. A ruse?

Hello? Hi, it's the 1930s.

Can we have our words, clothes and airplane back?

Let's go, kid. Call you back, 1930s.

And, hey, watch out for that Adolf Hitler. He's a bad egg.

No, one pedal fills it with water...

ARCHER: I did that. ...the other pedal flushes it.

ARCHER: No, it doesn't. Ugh.

You come try. I gotta choke down this gag reflex.

Yeah, quit being a dick for five seconds and unlock the door.

It doesn't have a lock.

Damn it, I'm gonna puke and there's no room in the toilet or the sink.

What the hell did you put in the sink?

A ruse, you big dumb idiot.

And also a bunch of shaving cream and toilet paper. Ha, ha, ha.

Just because.

Where does Malory get off implying that we didn't do our best?

No, she straight-up said it.

What she implied was that we're jealous of Archer...

...and that you're still attracted to him.

L-- That's-- What? PAM: Oh, please.

You're so hot for him, I could reheat this chili in your cooch.

Don't you have some humans to resource? Actually, no.

Most of my job is dealing with sexual harassment complaints against Mr. Archer.

So are we gonna make some cooch chili or what?

What the--? What the holy--? What in holy hell are you doing?

It was gonna be an old-fashioned but I couldn't find bitters.

How long was I out? Hard to say.

After I shaved and stuff, I took a pretty long nap, so--

Uncuff me, you idiot. Holy God, if we overshot our chance to refuel...

I thought you put it on autopilot. it just maintains course and altitude.

It doesn't know how to find the only airstrip within a thousand miles...

...so it can land itself when it needs gas!

Then I, uh, misunderstood the concept.

Uncuff me! Okay. God.

Wait, first promise you won't take me back to ISIS.

ISIS? You'll be lucky if I can get us back to land.

Now uncuff me! Okay. God.

Wait a minute. Is this a ruse?

Because if it is, pretty elaborate.

RILEY: Damn it. There goes number two.

But it can land on water, right? Isn't that the whole point?

It's kind of a different story when we're dropping like a ton of bricks.

Damn, I can barely hold her level. Want me to help steer or--?

Haven't you done enough already? How is this suddenly my fault?

Okay, this is it.

Come on, Lucy Goosey, you can do it.

Looking good, girl.

I think we're gonna be okay. Wait, you didn't put the wheels down.

The what? What are you--?

No!

Damn it!

Ah!

Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

Two personal records!

For breath-holding and number of sharks shot in the fricking face.

Did you see that?

Dude, are you even alive?

No, that side's too low.

Well, I can't tell from here. Well, I can, and it's too low.

I think you mean "premature."

What did you say? Nothing.

Archer doesn't want to come back, so I don't know how Riley's gonna get him on a plane.

Which I bet will crash. Yeah.

Now, you listen. Sterling is coming home safe and sound...

...and when he does, it'll be no thanks to you people...

...so you can forget about getting Carvel. Oh.

Cookie Puss.

What the--? What in the holy hell are you doing now?

Ugh. Wondering why this is called a D ration.

Ought to call it a Y ration, as in, "Hey, this tastes like cat shit."

They're not candy bars, jackass, they're survival rations.

They might have to last us a while. Um...

Oh, you son of a-- Okay, that's it.

As of right now, I'm-- What the--? Looking for this?

Give me that. No. You're agitated.

I'm agitated because you crashed my plane...

...in the God knows if it's even the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

Which you're floating on, and not getting shit out of a shark in.

Wait, what? I saved you from a shark, Rip.

Let's see, after I pulled you out of that shit heap of a plane...

...but before I gave you CPR and bandaged your head.

Oh. Well, thanks. You're welcome.

Sorry I ate so much food. That was a dick move.

If it makes you feel better, I puked most of it up.

It doesn't. Raft's pretty bobby.

We've got a few gallons of freshwater, a desalinator for when that runs out.

Let's see, flare gun and some flares, fishing gear. Oh!

And this guy. What is that?

Emergency beacon. Beams a signal directly to the ISIS satellite.

Oh, well, that's just great. Now I get to deal with this...

...as my hot meatball sub congeals into a big, fat, disappointing blob of shit.

Nobody's gonna touch that?

Yeah. So I figure three days for ISIS to get a rescue team out here.

Nice. So we just kick back, catch a few rays, catch some sushi.

Not gonna be a picnic-- Can I check that out?

Don't mess with those knobs. I got the frequency set.

Hey thanks, Guglielmo Marconi...

...who I think invented the radio.

Over.

MALORY: But if the emergency beacon is going off--

Oh, my God, their plane crashed. CHERYL: Ah!

I said that would happen and it did.

Oh, my God. What if I have psychokinetic powers?

I don't know. Just try to only use them for good.

No. MALORY: Well?

Don't just sit there sweating like a gigantic cheese.

Do something. Ow! And I am.

Our satellite's locked on the beacon, which is, jeez, the middle of nowhere.

Lana, Ray, get there this instant. Uh--

Sort of following up on his thing about the middle of nowhere. How?

The black titanium corporate card?

PAM: I thought it was just a myth.

Like a big, beautiful, no-limit unicorn.

Charter a private jet to Honolulu.

Then I don't care if you have to buy a plane, get out there and find him.

Wait. No, that's not in the budget.

Say "budget" to me again, Cyril. Save your receipts, please.

And call me the very instant you have an update.

And you. You lose my son, you'll have to drink your meatball subs through a straw.

Again, 0w!

And again, the satellite is locked on the beacon...

...so unless he, I don't know, throws it away--

Why the hell would he do that?

I told you. I'm not going back there. Well, you say that.

Riley, I will shoot you. Then I'll shoot you. With a flare.

Then I'll use a D ration bar and two survival crackers...

...to make s'mores over the crackling fire that used to be your chest cavity.

Goddamn, dude. Sorry, but you're acting really crazy.

Well, being a spy makes you crazy.

I mean, what kind of job is that, where your fiancee gets murdered?

Hello, stress. And don't even get me started on my mother.

I mean, she-- She can be a steel-clad bitch.

I know. Why do you think I left ISIS?

You were an ISIS agent? Briefly, way back.

Didn't work out, because your mother-- Was impossible to please.

God, if you only knew. What?

How much your mom loves you.

You would at least have the heart to go tell her you're quitting in person.

Sheesh. Rather get shot with a flare. Man up. Talk to your mother.

Then you can be a bartender and destroy a new marriage every week.

Come on, that marriage was doomed. And so are we, if we don't work together here.

So truce? Uh--

Yeah. And, hey, we're not doomed. Look.

Over here! Hey! No, no, no, quit waving. Get down.

Don't you wanna get rescued? Yeah, but those could be pirates.

Okay, well, then they'll just have to do till we find some cowboys and Indians.

What? What "what"? What are you talking about?

ARCHER: I'm sorry.

I didn't know pirates were...

...still a real thing.

This is not at all what I pictured. You hear "pirate ship"...

...you think sails, cannonballs. Not one of these guys has a beard.

Are you done? Hang on.

Planks. Now I'm done.

The fact that we're still alive tells me they're gonna try to--

Don't say "rape."

Ransom us. Awesome.

Compared to rape, which seems like a thing pirates would do.

Those numskulls who picked us up were so drunk--

That did seem piratey. They forgot to search me.

Unless you've got Navy SEALs stuffed in your pants--

No. I've got the signal beacon. So?

We stall the pirates until the ISIS rescue team shows up...

...boards the ship, takes them all out. Bing, bang, boom.

Which is funny why? Gee, where do I start?

GILLETTE: I will start with the caviar and the '38 Montrachet...

...then do the Kobe tartare with this '42 Lapin...

...and this chocolate terrine looks insane.

And then just send me to fat camp and pray to God...

...I don't eat all those fat, delicious childrens.

Because I will gobble them up.

Wow, ISIS has really gone downhill. But there must be some good agents.

It kills me to say it, but maybe Lana.

I doubt that's what Malory had in mind when she gave us the card.

You know, we are on a rescue mission. GILLETTE: Ugh.

Rescue me from myself.

Such a fatty.

I wouldn't put all my rescue eggs in that basket.

Well, you got a better plan?

I don't. I'm not really a planner. My process is a little more organic.

So let's just play it by ear, see where the afternoon takes us.

See? This is why I like to keep it loose.

I mean, the wine's crap, but-- Oh, sorry.

No offense, captain. No, I am who is sorry.

This from million-dollar yacht.

Now I don't feel bad for killing them.

Serves them right, those jerks. But you know wine. You rich man.

Me? No, I'm-- Rich man.

My men take this off you.

The Omicron Spacemaster.

Oh, it's actually the Spy-- Spacemaster, yeah.

Good old Spacemaster.

"To Sterling. Love, Mother."

Your mother rich lady.

Yeah, crazy rich. She invented the splashless urinal cake.

The what?

Well, doesn't matter. She's rich and she loves me.

And I'm really rich and this is my manservant, Jerkins.

Funny stuff. Not now, Jerkins.

So I bet she'd pay whatever ransom you ask for.

Splashless urinal cakes have been pretty good to us.

As you can imagine. Yeah, this good to hear.

But we can't do any of that "mail somebody a finger" shit--

No, no, no, we take you back to my island.

Call your mother, get big, big money! Awesome.

Compared to finger-mailing.

So tell me about this island of yours.

It's a tiny little rock called Pangu.

Nothing else within a thousand miles, and the beacon has been heading straight for it...

...at about 20 knots. So a ship must have picked them up.

But I've never even heard of Pangu.

Is there a naval base there or...? Not exactly. It's more of a, uh--

Pirate fortress.

No, yeah, I just wanted to make sure you said the phrase "pirate fortress."

Which apparently, yes, you did say the word "pirate," followed by the word--

CAPTAIN: "Fortress." That is the word. My English so crap.

I bet you just need more practice. Try this: Jerkins, you're a douche bag.

Funny stuff. Jerkins, you douche bag.

Well, keep at it. Oh, and, hey, did we cross the international date line?

Because I can change the date for you on that Omicron Spacemaster.

Yeah, okay, damn guy.

Yeah, I mean, you wouldn't want to be walking around like a dickhead...

...with the wrong date on your Omicron Spymaster.

What the hell, damn guy?

It's the Omicron Spymaster.

Which is why it's got knockout gas and a garrote and I think even a laser.

And, Riley, do I have to kill everyone myself? Huh? Oh.

Oh, shit.

Seriously, what the hell, Riley? I didn't know you were making a move.

Um, dickhead? Takes one to know one.

No, "dickhead" was the go word. How was I supposed to know?

Sorry, I forgot to tell you the go word was--

CAPTAIN: Douche bag. What?

I kill you.

But even still, Riley, you gotta be quicker.

I know you're pretty old-- Now that I know the go word--

No, idiot, it changes every time. What is it now?

Pirates! That's kind of confusing since we're on a--

Ow! Come on, that was right in my fricking ear. Sorry, I know that hurts.

RILEY: Hey, come on. Happens to me kind of a lot.

Ow! I actually have, like, mild tinnitus now.

I mean, it's gotten to where I had to start sleeping with a fan on.

Oh, my God- Yeah, otherwise it's like:

No, you just killed, like, 10 pirates.

Wow, if the 5-year-old me knew that, he would get a huge boner.

No idea why I said that.

Once these idiots figure out they can turn those cannons on the wheelhouse, we're gonna be...

Kind of confused. What are they doing?

RILEY: Looks like they're surrendering. Why?

All they have to do-- Who cares why?

I do. What if this is a ruse? It's not a ruse.

Say something before they change their minds.

Do they speak English?

Hello, pirates.

Who speaks English? Let me see some hands.

Wow. Way more than I thought.

Excuse me? Sorry, hi, I'm Noah.

What are you, the first mate, or--? Oh, God. Oh, well, thanks.

No, I'm a bajak budak. ARCHER: Okay.

It's sort of a-- I guess the nearest translation is "slave-pirate"?

Do you speak English? NOAH: I do. Yes.

They don't, though. They're just surrendering the ship to you.

Why? And the fort.

You're the new captain. BOTH: The what?

If you kill the old captain, you become the new captain.

You don't think of pirates as having a lot of rules...

...but they do and that's a big one.

Well, uh, tell them hands down.

Holy shit. Did you just see that?

No, I'm too busy looking at that.

What is--? What am I seeing?

NOAH: Oh, the women always throw a huge feast when we return to port.

Should I tell them to cancel it, or...? Huh? Uh-- Uh--

No. No, we're totally feasting. Say that.

Nice plan. Once they're good and drunk, we'll turn this tub around and head home.

Home? Riley, I am home.

What? Over my dead body you're running away to be a pirate.

Of course I'm not gonna be a pirate.

I'm gonna be a pirate king.