All language subtitles for Elementary.S04E17.720p.HDTV.X264-DIMENSION.HI

Sherlock!
I'm heading to the precinct.

Watson, you know Everyone.

Actually, I don't
know anyone.

No, I mean Everyone
with a capital “E.”

The hacker collective.

These are six of
their members.

And what are they doing
in our living room?

They've come to help
with your clothing drive

for Haven for
the Homeless.

I've just helped them out of a
spot of bother with the NSA,

and they owe me.

That's really great,
but...

Um, what are they doing?

They are giving you
their clothing.

When they help me,
they collect payment

by asking me to
humiliate myself,

so fair's fair,
is it not?

Okay, all of this is
gonna have to be washed.

Yup.

Does your charity
require undergarments?

(door opens, closes)

Better safe than sorry, no?

BELL:
Got one more batch for you.

Oh, great. You can just
put it right there. Thanks.

Mm-hmm.

Who knew cops
could be so generous?

This is the fourth
clothing drive

I've done here
in four years,

and the donations
go up every year.

Oh, parking's all set
for your friend, by the way.

I just hope she brought
a big enough car.

Are those bullet holes?

Yeah, that used to belong
to Sherlock.

Funny, you not telling me
he was dead.

No one shot him.

I think he was using that
in an experiment.

He proved tweed isn't
bulletproof. He must be proud.

Oh, Tammy!

Hey!
Oh. Hey!

I'll be right back.

Mm-hmm.

Joan.

(laughing)

Oh.

Good to see you, too.

Sorry, but someone wrote us
a check today-- a big one.

Five zeroes big.

Really?

Really. And it is
all thanks to you.

What are you talking about?

The guy who
wrote the check,

the guy who just
guaranteed

we can keep Haven
up and running

for at least the
next five years,

he is a friend
of yours.

Who?
Morland Holmes.

He... he is a friend
of yours, right?

Yeah, that's a good question.

You're the new guy.

And for the new guy, every
day here starts the same way.

At least in the winter.

(metallic clanking)

Attention, all bums, this is
your 6:00 a.m. wake-up call!

Time to hit the road!

See, they like the warm air

that comes out
of this grate,

but can't have a bunch
of homeless out front

when the customers
start to show.

Should I go back inside, maybe
get them some of the day-olds?

What, you want
to encourage them?

Hey, buddy.

You deaf?

You don't have to go home,
but you can't stay here.

Hey!

You got five seconds, then I'm
gonna tear that blanket off.

I don't think
it's a blanket.

It's, like, attached
to him, see?

I think it's
a cape.

♪ Elementary 4x17 ♪
You've Got Me, Who's Got You?
Original Air Date on March 20, 2016

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

BELL:
Meet the Midnight Ranger.

M.E. puts the time of death
around 11:00 last night.

Body was found a little
before 6:00 this morning.

Took someone seven hours
to find a dead body

dressed like this?

Well, either his cape
fell over him

when he fell, or the person
who shot him tucked him in.

To anyone who
walked by,

he just looked like a homeless
guy trying to stay warm.

Believe it or not,

he wasn't coming home
from a costume party.

These were his work
clothes-- sort of.

He walked a beat
in Greenpoint

almost every night.

Real-life superhero.

One of a subculture of

ordinary men and women
who don costumes to perform acts

of public service.

I'm familiar with
the phenomenon,

though I've never
delved too deeply

into the affairs of the heroes
who operate in New York.

They mostly
just scold litterbugs

and help little old ladies
across the street.

Mm, some of them
fight crime, too.

The Midnight Ranger
liked to hassle

street level
drug dealers.

Even chased down a
purse-snatcher or two.

Well, obviously he got in
over his head last night.

Or someone came
looking for him.

The shooter used
armor-piercing rounds.

Considering the Midnight
Ranger wore armor,

it's possible
he was targeted.

Maybe by someone he
tangled with in the past.

You keep using his hero name,
the Midnight Ranger.

That's 'cause
I have to.

There wasn't any
I.D. on the body.

That's why I called;
thought maybe you could

help figure out his
secret identity.

This is an impressive suit.

Indeed.

If you look closely,
you'll see the button holes,

which attach the cape
to the shoulder armor,

are tailor-made.

Not homemade or factory made.

They're straight-cut
and hand sewn by an expert.

Now, given that the
Midnight Ranger's territory

was Greenpoint,

perhaps you should visit

some of the neighborhood
tailors, dry cleaners.

There might be a seamstress
or a sempster

who knows his real identity.

Watson and I,
meanwhile,

will adjourn to the New York
offices of Superlative Comics.

What for?

Well, unlike
his civic-minded brethren,

our victim

did not come up
with his own

superhero name and costume.

Rather, he assumed the identity

of a character owned
and copyrighted by Superlative.

I know. I used to read

the Midnight Ranger
when I was a kid.

Do you seriously think
this guy got gunned down

by an angry
comic book company?

No, but Superlative
were none too happy

about the infringement,

and they've been
trying to find out

the Midnight Ranger's identity
for well over a year.

So they might know
more about him than we do.

HOLMES: Well, it makes
a certain amount of sense

that our John Doe would emulate
the Midnight Ranger,

as opposed to other heroes
in the Superlative library.

The Ranger has
no real superpowers.

He is simply
an Olympic-level athlete

with an obscenely high IQ

who, for some reason,
remains oblivious

to the lure of the Olympic games
and the Nobel Prize.

He didn't dedicate himself
to crime-fighting, however,

until his fiancée, Rebecca
Rogers, was murdered by...

You really think
I don't know the origin

of the Midnight Ranger?

My brother was a geek, remember?

I know the origins of
all of the Superlative heroes.

Really?
Really.

Exposed to theta radiation
by his scientist parents.

Stung by
a radioactive scorpion.

Uh, nuclear power plant
explosion.

In what universe are these
people not all dead from cancer?

When's the last time
you heard from your father?

It's been a few months. Why?

MAN:
Miss Watson.

Uh, Mr. Holmes.

Al Baxter. I edit
the Midnight Ranger book.

I was told you have
questions about him.

We do have questions,
just not about your Ranger.

The flesh and blood Midnight
Ranger was shot dead last night.

Unfortunately, the bullets used
were not radioactive,

so he'll be remaining
quite dead.

Oh.

I got no idea
who this guy is.

You got any idea
who this guy is?

I knew something like
this would happen.

As soon as this idiot started
operating a couple years back,

I said to my guys,

we got two
possible outcomes:

he hurts someone

or someone hurts him.

Either way,

it gets us
all the wrong headlines.

At the worst possible time.

What do you mean?
EICHORN: We sent our lawyers

after the real Ranger

because we had to protect
our licensing deals.

But now we're in talks

with a studio about
a major motion picture.

So we finally get our slice
of that superhero movie cake,

made from layers of money.

For a character whose book
is hardly selling?

This is a reimagining.

A new Midnight Ranger,
relevant to today's society.

Sandy means darker,
more violent.

Could the death of the real
Ranger affect the deal?

It can't help.

But on the plus side,

the picture wouldn't be
in theaters for at least

a couple more years.

Any luck,

this real Ranger mishegas

will be squarely
in our rearview mirror.

You said
you wanted everything

our investigators
turned up.

You got it.

But I'll tell you
right now, it isn't much.

Your dead guy's
real superpower,

turns out,
was being able

to run faster than people
trying to serve him papers.

We got some
blurry pictures,

an idea of where his regular
patrol was, that's it.

We'll take whatever you've got.

Yeah, that's my stitching.

I'd like to show you a picture
of the man who got killed.

You won't see

anything graphic, just the face.

That be okay?

(sighs):
All right. Yeah.

(sighs):
That's him.

That's definitely him.

Do you know his name?

You know, there used to be a lot
of crime in this neighborhood.

Did you know that?

Back in 2010, we were held up
twice in the same month.

Twice.
By the same guy.

Cops never caught him.

I never saw
the Ranger in action.

I mean, it's not like he drove
around is a Midnight Mobile.

But I'm telling you,

last couple of years,
things got better.

People felt safer.

He didn't want anybody
to know his real name,

so, uh, why should
I tell you?

Because you don't want
the person who did this

to get away with murder.

(sighs)

His name was Danny.
Danny Dalton.

That's the real
Midnight Ranger's name.

I mean,

the real real one, the original,
the one from the comics.

He might as well have told you
his name was Bruce Wayne.

Well, I'm sorry, but that's...

that's the only name
he ever gave me.

(door opens)

Mr. Holmes.

Joan.

To what do I owe the pleasure?

I came to say thank you.

Unless there's another
Morland Holmes

who donated $250,000 to Haven
for the Homeless yesterday.

(speaking Russian)

I must confess,

I was motivated in part
by the American tax system.

It was a good year.

The money
had to go somewhere,

and your charity seemed

a better final destination
than the government.

You want something.

I was going to wait

a decent interval
between the donation

and asking for your help,

but, in fact, I'm in need
of an investigator.

You have in-house investigators.
I do.

But it's the sanctity of
my house that I'm worried about.

What's the problem?

Please.

As you may
or may not know,

oil has been discovered
in the Colombian jungle.

A group
of Chinese investors

hired me to broker a deal
with the Colombian government

to allow for the construction
of several refineries.

After a year
of painstaking work,

one of my competitors swooped in

and closed the deal
in a weekend.

And you think someone here
helped them undercut you.

I had a team of ten assisting me
with the negotiations.

Each person had access
to technical specifications,

cost projections,
any number of things

that would make it simple for a
competitor to beat our numbers.

Does anyone jump out at you?

They're a good group.

Each person
was vetted meticulously

before they came to work here.

Isn't it possible
that your competitor

just did a better job than you?

It is.

In fact, nothing
would make me happier

than knowing that

I can trust the ten individuals
in question.

Why me?

Why not ask
Sherlock for help?

Sherlock and I are not
on the best of terms at present.

I'll think about it.

If it's a problem...

I do understand.

It's pretty hard
to say no to someone

who just donated
a quarter of a million dollars

to a charity I care about.

Well, that was the
whole point, right?

(door opens)

(door closes)

What's all that?

I wondered if some enlightenment
might be found

in the fictional universe

our Midnight Ranger
took inspiration from.

So I reached out to the
Midnight Ranger fan community,

and, with their help,
I managed to procure

the comic's entire run.

There has to be,
what, 600 issues?

648, to be precise.

Having read the bulk of them,
I confess I do see the appeal.

If you strip away
the silly outfits, square jaws

and skull-sized breasts,

there is a cardinal devotion
to justice.

The attention to continuity,
however, is laughable.

This is the tenth
issue from the 1940s,

and you took it
out of its bag.

Yes. How else
was I going to read it?

(groans)

And you did
all this why?

Over the course of the 80 years
of his derring-do,

the Midnight Ranger has died

five times.

It occurred to me that our
Ranger might have been killed

by an obsessed fan attempting
to recreate a particular death.

And?
Unfortunately,

the deaths in the comics
involved

being sent back in time,
buried deep underground,

made microscopic,
impersonated by an alien and--

my particular favorite demise--
pushed over a waterfall,

locked in the embrace
of his nemesis.

Hmm.

In comparison, armor-piercing
bullets seem passé.

Speaking of super villains,

you asked about my father today

and then you disappeared
for an hour.

Why do I sense a connection?

Well, because there is one.

He thinks that one of his people

is selling company secrets
to a rival.

He asked me to look into it.

Only you?
Yeah.

He said that you two
were on the outs.

Look, I told him that I'd
have to talk to you about it

before I agreed to help.
(phone ringing)

Hello?

MAN:
Is this Sherlock Holmes?

Who's this?

Someone who can tell you
the Midnight Ranger's real name.

Sorry, you'll have to be
more specific.

Do you mean the Midnight Ranger
from the comic books

or-or the one who died
in Greenpoint yesterday?

The one who was murdered.

Would you do me the favor
of telling me your name?

I want to talk in person.

Time and a place?

Now.

I'm on your roof.

I'm the Standard-Bearer.

I'm here to help.

You're staring.

Observation must be one of
your superhuman abilities.

I've had masked
visitors before,

but they came either to kill me
or have sex with me.

On one memorable
occasion, both,

but you are my first superhero.

You do make
quite an entrance.

The roof-- I
assume you wanted

to establish your
hero credentials.

Lend more weight
to your words.

You don't want people seeing me
ringing your doorbell.

An association between us
could place you in danger.

Your enemies are legion,
I take it.

You know you're gonna have
to take that off

to drink that, right?

It's imperative for my safety

and that of my loved ones
that...

One should never confuse
need with fetish.

You got onto our roof
via the fire escape next door.

Your particular musculature and
ability to make that entrance

indicate expertise
in free running.

But a slight hunch

speaks to a job which involves
frequent bending from the waist.

You smell of organic compounds
redolent of printing solvents.

You work in a print shop,
probably in Astoria,

where,
according to the Internet,

the Standard-Bearer
walks a beat.

Long story short,
your secret identity is,

here, purely notional.

So take off the mask.

Please?

How'd you do all that?

I was bitten
by a radioactive detective.

How did you get my number
and address?

There's... awareness of you

in the community.

The community?

The hero community.

One of your business cards
got around.

Why?

You're someone to call on
as a last resort.

You're with the police,
but you're not police.

Most of us don't like cops.

Depending on the neighborhood,

they can't be trusted
to look out for the little guy.

That's why we do what we do.

So, you said you could tell us
the Midnight Ranger's real name.

It's Mike Stratton.

He was a friend.

Do you know who killed him?

No.

But if it's someone
he crossed paths with before,

the name will be
in his war journals.

They're a log of

everything he did
as the Midnight Ranger.

You'll find them
at his headquarters.

I imagine this is
what it feels like

the first time one
steps into the Batcave.

This must be Mike
Stratton's war journals.

Last night, you asked
if I had a problem

with you assisting
my father. I do.

Something happen
between you two?

Apart from my entire life? Yeah.

I briefly applied myself

to the shooting
which left him half-stomached.

With no small amount of finesse,

I was able to identify
the triggerman,

a mercenary
named Ruslan Krasnov.

I gave my father his name.

I told him to tread carefully.
He ignored that warning.

What do you mean?

Several weeks ago,
Ruslan Krasnov

went missing
from a Russian prison.

What, you think your father
busted him out?

It was the very definition
of foolhardy.

He may have placed himself in
danger, and if he's in danger,

so is everyone
in his orbit.

My advice is
stay out of his orbit.

What'd you find?

It's a check made out
to Mike Stratton for $1,000.

Okay, so someone wrote him
a check for $1,000.

It's not the amount

that's interesting,
it's the name on the check.

(elevator bell dings)

Mr. Baxter.

You'll be pleased to hear we've
identified the Midnight Ranger.

Turns out he was in your
check register all along.

Please have a seat.

Um...

Mike was my friend.

Yesterday, you and Mr. Eichorn
made him sound like an enemy.

He was Superlative's enemy,
not mine.

Mike approached me

a little over two years ago

and asked my permission to wear
the Midnight Ranger costume

to... fight crime.

'Cause that's what you do
when you want to assume

the mantle of
a copyrighted superhero,

you go to the editor
of that hero's comic book?

Well, I'm not just the editor.

My grandfather
was Morty Stiller.

Morty Stiller, the creator
of the Midnight Ranger?

Yeah.

Here was a guy who was
everything my grandfather

wanted the Midnight Ranger
to be, you know?

He was, um, brave
and honorable and decent.

Someone who just wanted
to make the world better.

The whole thing
was just so, um...

Romantic?

(sighs):
Yeah, I guess.

My grandfather
would have loved it.

A real Midnight Ranger

helping real people.

So, I...
I gave him my blessing.

So this was written
less than a week ago.

Right, well,
the first time we met,

I told him
I had one condition--

that he needed to take steps
to protect himself.

So I gave him some money
to buy body armor.

After that,

I'd send him a little something
whenever I could,

you know, just to keep him safe.

Look, I...

really wanted to tell you guys

about this yesterday,
but you have to understand,

if Sandy finds out
that I did this...

You'll lose your job?
Well, more than that.

Working here at Superlative,

it's, like, my last connection
to this character.

And my grandfather.

Hey, if it'll help,

I will give you access
to my e-mail accounts.

Yes.

And then you can look at

all of my correspondence
with Mike, and you'll see.

He was my friend.

Hey.

Hey. Thanks.

So, scale of one
to ten, how crazy?

Not crazy.

I mean, not exactly.

I mean, everything
was very organized.

He kept notes like a cop would.

You said he worked
as a security guard?

Part-time-- he was

going to school
to become a social worker.

Guess do-gooding at night
wasn't enough for the guy.

(sighs)

Is that from the lab?

Yeah, the trace evidence unit

I.D.'d a piece of fabric
found at the scene

as a flap torn from a pouch
on a tactical belt.

Makes sense--
the victim was wearing one.

He was, but his belt
was intact.

You think the killer was
wearing a tactical belt, too?

There was a struggle
before Mike Stratton was shot.

Maybe he tore that off.

GREGSON:
Hey, there's something

you two need to see.

GREGSON:
This happened in Greenpoint

just a couple of hours ago.

This guy stole a lady's purse,

and this guy chased him down
and got it back.

“The Midnight
Ranger Lives.”

Eh.

Obviously, some new nut-job

just got himself a costume
and decided to pick up

where Mike Stratton left off.

Who you calling?

Sherlock.

I think I might know who
the new Midnight Ranger is.

And if I'm right...

he might have
killed the old one.

How'd you find me?

I used everything I know
about you

to find out
the one thing I didn't.

Nice to meet you, Ben.

Why are you here?

My partner and I are
investigating the possibility

that Mike Stratton was murdered
by a fellow superhero.

What?

It seems the killer left a piece
of a tactical belt at the scene.

Would it surprise you to know

that it's the same
brand of belt

that you wear
as the Standard-Bearer?

Lots of heroes have that belt.

Well, let's say that's true.

How many do you suppose want
to be the new Midnight Ranger?

I have to admit, Ben,
looks good on you.

I was trying to honor Mike.

I wanted to show
the person who killed him

that the Midnight Ranger
will never die.

Not him, not the things
he stands for.

BELL:
It's just funny

how you had your own Midnight
Ranger costume all ready to go.

I didn't have it “ready to go.”

I had this costume for years.

I bought it to go

to a comic book convention.

I have costumes
of all my favorite heroes.

The Midnight Ranger's your
absolute favorite, is he not?

The first thing I noticed at
the print shop was your name.

Ben Garrett.

It reminded me of,
uh, Benji Garrett.

A frequent contributor
to the letters column

in the Midnight Ranger comic
between 2003 and 2009.

My partner's suspicion
that you killed Mike Stratton

suddenly made
a little more sense.

What are you talking about?

Benji mostly heaped
praise on the comic,

but then in 2007, the
Midnight Ranger was revamped.

He became,
uh, more brooding,

more bloodthirsty.

Certain elements of his
backstory, his origin story,

were-- I believe the
term is-- retconned.

WATSON: Benji didn't
like the changes.

His letters to Superlative

became more and more
impassioned,

until he finally
told them

that he was never gonna buy
another one of their comics.

What they did was wrong.

Someone had
to tell them so.

BELL:
Maybe you didn't like

what Mike was doing
with the Midnight Ranger.

Maybe you decided
to tell him so.

WATSON: Can you tell
us your whereabouts

between 10:00 p.m. and midnight
two nights ago?

I was on patrol.

Did anyone see you?

(sighs)

If I killed Mike,

why would I have
come to you the other night?

Why would I tell you who he was,
where he lived?

WATSON:
Because you knew

we'd identify him eventually.

You wanted to present yourself
as a friend.

I was a friend! I...

A year ago, I was...

different...

than I am now.

I...

didn't like myself.

I didn't like
the world I lived in.

The news was on.

A girl had been assaulted
in Greenpoint.

The police only had sketches,
and then all of a sudden,

I mean, right there

on my screen...

is the Midnight Ranger.

They were talking to him because
he was putting up flyers.

They thought it was funny,
but if they had just listened...

I looked at him and I thought,

why can't I try to be like that?

In the end, I got
a message to him.

I said...

I-I want to be a hero.

“So be a hero,” he said.

I couldn't have hurt Mike.

He saved my life.

I'll apply for a warrant
to search his apartment,

see if we can find a tactical
belt with a flap torn off.

What'd you think?

I think I liked him as a suspect
a lot more five minutes ago.

Did you identify
any other suspects

from Mike Stratton's
war journals?

Um, there was one name
that popped up

in more recent entries--
a Renny Molina.

He's a drug dealer
that set up shop

in Greenpoint Park
a few months ago.

Mike was hassling him
on a regular basis,

interfering with drug deals.

Told him to get out of the park.

There was an entry
from last week

that said things finally
got physical between them.

Physical how?
It wasn't clear.

He didn't document his failures

with as much detail
as his victories.

First thing tomorrow,
we'll pay Mr. Molina a visit.

Actually, I can't.

I have an appointment
with your father.

He sent over some materials,
I want to return them in person.

You decided to heed my advice.

We've got enough going on;
he can find his mole himself.

(sighs)

(sniffs)

It's dangerous counting
your money in this park.

Hear there are
drug dealers about.

Do tell.

Mr. Molina, I, uh...
I work with the police.

The Midnight Ranger
was something of a...

tormentor to you.

Interfering with
your business,

even called the police
on a few occasions,

causing you to run away.

The last time
he came here,

he was the one
who ran away, okay?

Yeah.

Was that, by any chance,
the night of the 12th?

'Cause he wrote about it.

He said there was
a confrontation,

which resulted in the loss
of a piece of equipment.

I'm thinking perhaps
you stole his belt.

His belt?
Yeah.

Well, there was a piece
of one found at the scene

of his murder.

Maybe you stole his,
he replaced it,

and then, for some reason,

you had the original on you
the night you shot him.

(chuckles):
You're crazy, man.

I got nothing
to say to you.

Hello? Captain?

Yeah. Yeah, I found him.

Yeah. No, he doesn't
want to cooperate.

I know. Yeah.

At the precinct?

Yeah. Okay.

Well, he says it's going
to take at least ten men.

Hey.
Hang on.

What? Now he's saying, “Why
don't you come here yourself?”

Hey, man.
Yeah. Hold on.

Yeah, hold on, I'm gonna
have to call you back.

This is the
equipment I took.

Fool dropped it after
I popped him right here.

And I warned him, yo.

I told him to get
out of my face,

but he wouldn't listen.
No.

So when he took off,
I kept it,

as, you know, a trophy.

It's a burner.

Got some
access code, man,

so you can't...
Yeah.

How'd you do that?

So, I suppose
you are gonna tell me

that you were here the night
of the murder, aren't you?

Actually, I won't,
'cause I wasn't.

I was in the E.R.
on Chambers Street

with my girl
and her kid.

She thought he got
into my stash,

eaten something
he shouldn't have.

Turned out to be nothing,
but we were there all night.

Well, this has been
very helpful.

I think I know who
I need to speak with next.

Yo, but-but what about with
the captain, all that stuff?

Is that for real?

If I were you, I'd leave here,
don't come back.

I'm gonna keep this.
Thank you.

MORLAND:
I confess, I didn't expect

to hear back
from you so soon.

Did you review
the materials I sent?

I did.

Every report, every
file, every e-mail.

And?

First, I'd like to talk to
you about Ruslan Krasnov.

Perhaps we should
speak in my office.

I didn't realize you were
aware of Mr. Krasnov.

I wasn't, not until yesterday.

So, two years ago,

he was the one who actually
pulled the trigger, right?

He killed Sabine?

If my son is to be believed,
yes.

According to Sherlock,
you paid someone

to break him out of
a Russian prison,

presumably
to torture him,

make him give you the name
of the person who hired him.

Nonsense.

So he's wrong?

You had nothing to do
with Krasnov escaping?

I did not.

Your son thinks we should
stay away from you.

That you put everyone
around you in danger.

Respectfully, Joan,

I didn't hire you to lecture me

on things
that don't concern you.

Actually, you didn't hire me.

You gave a bunch of money

to a cause that you don't
give a damn about

because you thought
I would be indebted to you.

We deserve to know--

are you starting a war
with someone?

Were my negotiations
with the Colombians

undermined by someone
in my company or weren't they?

No.

There's no mole here.

At least,
there's nothing

in the material that you gave me
that points to one.

As far as I could tell,
you were just outmaneuvered.

That can happen,
you know.

You can lose.

Sherlock Holmes, meet
Sergeant Black from the 7-4.

Nice to meet you.

Hey, um...

this is the number

of your desk phone,
correct?

Yeah, yeah. Why?

Uh, you hear about

the Midnight Ranger murder?

Yeah, the guy in the cape.

Heard he got shot
the other night.

That was his phone.

He used it to alert police

to street crimes
he couldn't handle alone.

Yeah, yeah.

If you look at the log here,
there are exactly 37 calls

to the police,
one from them.

Specifically from you.

What?

BELL:
Yeah, this would've been

a week ago today,
little after 11:00 p.m.

I remember now.

The Green Goblin
was trying to help Skeletor

bust out of his cell.

I couldn't get
the Midnight signal up,

so I just, I called
the Ranger direct.

You already confirmed
this is your number.

Is this guy for real?

We just want to know
if you knew him.

You know, he kept a low profile,

so anyone who can share
information with us...

Isn't in this room.

Look, excuse me.
I got some real work to do.

Oh, well, perhaps you'd like us

to assume that you were
sharing information with him.

I beg your pardon?

You're a sergeant,
you're often desk-bound.

Difficult to effect
any real change,

though not for
the Midnight Ranger.

Perhaps you thought an alliance
with him was an attractive idea.

Look, no one is accusing you
of anything, okay?

We just want to know
if you knew Mike Stratton.

You do know him.

No, no.
But I know that name.

About a week ago,
they brought a guy in,

10:30 at night, passed out
behind the wheel of his car.

It was parked,
but it was still a DWI.

He used my phone to call
his friend for bail,

and his friend's name
was Stratton.

You remember the name
of the guy who got collared?

Uh, Baxter.
Baxter something.

Al Baxter?

Yeah.
You should talk to him.

We did, twice.

You ask him
about his gun?

We weren't aware
he owned one.

He had a permit to carry
a .45 right in his wallet.

What kind of gun
was used in the homicide?

A .45.

(elevator bell dings)

I heard about the second
Midnight Ranger

a little while ago.

Please tell me
there's not a third.

Actually, Mr. Eichorn,

we're here to speak
with Al Baxter.

Is he around?

No, he's... working from home.

You hesitated. Why?

“Working from home”
is usually code

for “too hungover
to come into the office.”

Why do you want to talk to him?

God hates the Midnight Ranger.

I don't know why.

He just does.

So the fact
that a trusted employee

shot a man dressed up
as the Midnight Ranger

doesn't seem strange to you?
Why is that?

Because Al Baxter
is the angriest guy I know.

I didn't hire him by choice.

It was the
publisher's idea.

She thought it would be fun

bringing in the grandson
of the Ranger's creator

to edit the
Ranger comic.

Course, she didn't have
to work with him every day.

She didn't have
to put up with his crap.

Define “crap.”

Back in the '40s,

Superlative basically
screwed Morty Stiller

out of his rights
to the character.

That's how the companies

did business in those days,
but Baxter

never shut up
about it.

Always complaining
about

how rich he and his family
should be,

how the rest of us wouldn't even
be here without his granddad.

No one in the bullpen
could stand him.

Well, we found
multiple indications

that Mike Stratton
could stand him,

and the two of them were,
in fact, good friends.

Baxter probably loved

that the guy was causing
headaches for the company.

Then why shoot him?

Maybe he wanted to screw up
the Midnight Ranger movie deal.

A week ago,
Baxter found out

that everyone from editorial

was having dinner
with the studio execs.

Everyone except him.

So he wasn't invited?

Last thing we needed was
him crying into his coffee

about how he should be
getting his cut.

He threw a tantrum.
He stormed out of here.

Probably went straight to a bar.

BELL:
Was this, by any chance,

the night of the 13th?

Sounds right.

Same night
he got that DWI.

EICHORN: The point is,
the Stratton kid,

the real Ranger, he got killed

a stone's throw
from the restaurant.

What restaurant?

The one we took
the movie guys to.

Zona Rosa.

I didn't realize
how close we were

until I saw it
in the paper the other day.

So you're saying
the dinner took place

the same night
Mike Stratton was killed?

Same night.
And less than 500 feet away.

So what are
the chances that, uh,

Mr. Baxter comes in today,
despite his hangover?

Depends how drunk he got.

But he might still come in?

Sure. Why?

(fire alarm blaring)

What the hell
did you do that for?

Quickest way to evacuate your
offices and draw the authorities

to the building.

If Mr. Baxter decides to come
to work today, we don't want you

and your staff being here.
Why not?

I don't think he planned to kill
Mike Stratton the other night.

I think he planned to kill

everyone except for
Mike Stratton.

(knocks)

Hello? Hello?

(over speakers):
Hello?

Is anyone in there?

Been here for
almost an hour now.

(phone chimes)

Marcus?
Yeah.

I'll tell the
captain it's time.

(knocks)

Oh, Mr. Holmes.

Mr. Baxter, have a seat.

(clears throat)

Your captain called me here.

They said that they identified
a suspect in Mike's murder--

someone I may
or may not recognize.

So my colleague, Detective Bell,
just found a virtual arsenal

in the basement of your home.

Wh-What are you...?
Wait, is this a trick?

Did you bring me here so that
you could search my place? Why?

(chuckles)

Yeah, I got some guns.

So what? They're all registered.

I ask you, is there anything
more quintessentially American

than being gunned down
in a place that you're meant

to feel safe?

Sometimes I think it should be
on U.S. currency.

Most of your ilk
do themselves in.

Of course, that is
after the deed has been done.

But you were stopped before
you could even get started,

weren't you?

Foiled by a caped crusader.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

You and Mike Stratton
were in communication;

that's not in question.

And at some point,
perhaps whilst drunk,

you made the depths of your
hatred for Superlative Comics

frighteningly and
abundantly clear.

I'm not sure whether you
told him that you intended

to shoot as many of your
coworkers as you possibly could,

but you did give him
cause for concern.

He knew about the dinner
you had been excluded from.

He went there to make sure
you didn't do anything stupid.

So imagine his horror when
you arrive armed to the teeth.

(sighs)

You got quite an imagination;
you should work in comics.

This was found
near his body.

At first, we thought it was torn
from the belt of another hero.

But it wasn't.

Tactical belts aren't made
for do-gooding,

they're made
for people with guns.

They're meant to carry
extra ammunition.

Before you shot Mike,
there was a struggle,

and he ripped this
from your belt.

It was a coincidence,
an armored man being shot

by armor-piercing bullets.

They weren't
meant for him.

No. They were meant
for your tormentors

at Superlative Comics.

You wanted to be able
to shoot through furniture,

you wanted to be able to shoot
through other people,

through anything and everything
that stood between you and them.

I think you've told me precisely
two things that were true.

One, that you admired
and appreciated

Mike's dedication to
the Midnight Ranger's ideals,

and secondly,
that Mike was your friend.

So why don't you do
the right thing now.

Why don't you make it clear
that your friend

didn't die a silly man
in a silly costume.

Hmm?

And make it clear
that he died a hero.

I... (sobs)

I never shot anybody before.

(sniffles)

I saw Mike laying there,

I realized I couldn't do that
to anybody else.

What's all that?

It's a little light reading

for our friend
Ben Garrett,

aka Benji Garrett,
aka The Standard-Bearer,

aka the new Midnight Ranger.

I e-mailed him about the
resolution of our case.

Despite Mike Stratton's murder,
he's still intent

on remaining a hero.

And you thought since you can't
change his mind...

I would loan him
some materials that might

hone his observational skills,
help him know a threat

when he sees one.

That's sweet.

Makes me want
to buy you a cape.

All right, I'm going out
for a little while.

Being fitted
for your own costume?

I'm having dinner with a friend.

See you later.

♪ ♪

WATSON:
Emil Kurtz?

Do I know you?

We have a friend in common:
Morland Holmes.

Oh. Well, nice to meet you.

Morland asked me

to find a mole in his office.

Someone who undermined a deal
to build refineries in Colombia.

In other words,
he asked me to find you.

What?

You collect jazz records.

A week before Morland's deal
fell apart,

you sent a few very long e-mails
to someone named VinylVenue43.

He was offering to sell you
some rare albums;

you wanted a better deal.

Do you know
what a Vigenère cipher is?

It's a form
of encryption

that allows a person
to hide messages

inside regular texts.

You weren't looking
to buy any records.

You were sharing information
with the competition.

What do you want?

Same thing
that VinylVenue43 did.

A mole inside
Morland Holmes' office.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man