All language subtitles for Doom.Patrol.S03E05.1080p.WEB.H264-GGEZ-NHI

♪ This could be the last of
All the rides we take ♪

♪ So hold on tight
And don't look back ♪

♪ And you only live forever
In the lights you make ♪

♪ When we were young
We used to say ♪

How long
have you felt like this?

Kay?

Whoa!

Whoa, you're getting so big.

Kay and I were just having
a little morning session,
if you don't mind.

Since when
do you give Kay sessions?

I just said my feet hurt. See?

-Oof!

Well, you know,
Driller Bill has some
killer unicorn Band-Aids.

I don't want Band-Aids.
I want new shoes.

And we were discussing
whether or not that
was a good idea.

What's the big deal?
I'll just go pick some up.

What if I go?

I don't know
what size I am now.

I need to try them on myself.

You want to go up?

But as I was explaining to Kay,
there are rules in place.

The Underground is
a delicate ecosystem,

and brash decisions
affect us all.

Brash decisions?

This is her body.
Everything here is hers.

So if she wants to
go up, then...

She's a little girl,

and she cannot make
these decisions alone.

And she won't,
because I'm here.

You don't have the right.

- Hey.

God! Do you get off on
being a cranky old bitch?

Kay wants to go up.
I think that's a good thing.

Is it?

Fuck off.

We all ate a piece of it, Jane.
We're all a part of this.

Whatever decisions
need to be made,
and whatever happens,

we are all a part of it.

How goddamn cute
is that?

Check it out.

The Steele family biceps
coming in already!

He's going to be
one hell of a pitcher.

Or whatever he wants to be.

No pressure, only support.

L-M-F-A-O.

Do you even know
what that means?

Yeah. Love my fucking
awesome offspring.

What?

Where did you
get these exactly?

World Wide Web, baby.

You want it? They got it.

Ooh!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey.
Rule number one
of the Internet.

Don't click pop-ups.

-But I wa...
-Hey.

-Pay attention.

Okay, um, recommended dosage,
take two capsules.

Check. Take with food. Check.

It says here that you should
start to see improvement
in a couple of months.

Couple months?

What the hell?

Booyah. Be right back.

"May take up to
two to three months
to become effective."

Three whole months?

Ha!
Eat shit, Parkinson's.

I don't get it.

I didn't like
the thought of my son
running around

without any way to
protect himself.

What about S.T.A.R. Labs?

I've disabled
their tracking
and surveillance protocols.

This is our little secret.

Are you sure
that's a good idea?

Dad?

I'm sorry, Vic.

Obviously, that word
has been lacking
in my vocabulary,

but I'm saying it now,
and I mean it.

I never wanted to be
the kind of dad

who pushes his son down
some preconceived path.

Maybe turning
into one's own father
is an unavoidable tragedy.

Great.

Hey, now.

Cyborg was never meant to be
a means to reinvent you.

I know.

Vic, if this is something
you don't want anymore...

That's not what I'm saying.

I appreciate
what you're doing for me.

And what you did.

Um... Sorry, I gotta take this.

We can talk more soon,
if you want.

You know where to find me.

It's gone,
without a trace.

- You sure?
- Trust me.

I can spot a clogged pore
upstage left from a mezzanine.

Hmm.

Maybe it was all part of
the zombie thing.

Please, no more talk of
the Z-word,

or anything pertaining
to that day in question,
thank you.

Sorry. Sorry.

I'd do
well enough never to hear
the word "brain" again either.

Nevertheless...

I suppose this means
you aren't dying.

- Huh?

-What?
-Oh, it's just...

Uh...

What? Oh, my God!

-Don't panic.
-Don't panic?

Well, clearly,
it's not a tumor,
because tumors don't move.

There is a thing
underneath my skin,

running around my body.

-Oh.

Team meeting,
three minutes.

-What?
-Three minutes!

Okay.

Hey!

You can't call team meeting.

You're not a team leader.

And we're not even a team!

Hey, Doctor Who.

Did you get us all in here

so we can watch you do
your Kegels,

or did you actually have
something to say?

The next time
you have a question,
young lady,

I suggest you raise
your hand, okay?

The Ant Farm.
Do you recall a jailbreak

your merry band
orchestrated there
some time ago?

Uh, yeah?

-Of course!

That's why I'm here.

-You freed them,

those insidious,
cutthroat terrorists.

Terrorists?

-The Sisterhood of Dada.
-The Sisterhood of what?

These escapees, you want to
find and corral them?

No, actually,
I'd like you to kill them.

We are not the kind of people
that kill people.

Unless they're
Nazis or butts.

Yeah,
and not to mention,

I was a prisoner
of the Ant Farm.

We all were.
And we're not bad people.

What makes you so sure that
the Sisterhood of the Dada are?

What exactly is Dada?

Uh, it's just this
insufferable thing
the French came up with

so they could make
crude nudie films
and call it art.

Really?

I thought it was that thing
where you do bad shit,

the universe does
bad shit to you.

-That's Karma, dick slit.
-Oh.

Exhibit A,
left behind in
one of their cells

after your little jailbreak.

"The eternal
flatulation is coming."

The insignia was also found
in Prague,

Mumbai, Wellington
and Kuala Lumpur,

and dozens of other cities
throughout the globe.

Striking evidence
of a global conspiracy.

Luckily, Jones also
tracked them

to what appears to be
their current location.

They're close.

Why does it say
"join us?"

For what exactly?

Oh, it's probably
nothing, dear.

You know, I'm sure I just
crawled through
the earth currents

of time and space
to simply sit around
drinking weak tea

in a halfway house
for a bunch of
self-loathing layabouts.

Ouch.

Or maybe I came here,

because something very big
and very ugly,

an eternal flagellation,
perhaps, is set to occur,

and it needs to be stopped.

Oh. And you don't want
to do this yourself because?

Uh, they'd spot me
a mile off. Right?

Bird or no bird.

Fine.

If you won't
dirty your little
pacifist hands,

then, all I ask
is for you to observe
and report.

And how do you want us
to do that exactly?

They said, "Join us,"
so, join, infiltrate.

Ahem.

What?

If we do this,
will you go away forever?

Ooh!

Yeah, probab--

- Cool.
- I'm down.

All right, Rita,
you come with me.

You're not team leader.

Right there,
in the glass cabinet.

-Is that... me?
-Yes.

And why is that you?

I knew it. I knew it!

Rita Farr, world-renowned
time-traveler. It's true!

Uh-huh. So you admit it?

Admit it? I'm overjoyed.

Oh, I thought I was going mad
after I saw myself,

but there's the proof.

Prepare to eat your words,
Larry Trainor.

Yeah, I suppose, but, I...

-Uh...
-Laura?

Hello?

Hang a left up here,
Larry. Now!

I got it. I got it.

Jeez, Vic,
don't get too excited,

or we'll have to get
the bus detailed.

Hey, Van Gogh, what the fuck?

Cliff... you okay?

Whoa.

Is it just me,
or are you extra shiny today?

Man, what the hell?

You know, I was
a little skeptical
about those pills,

but... Whoa!
Look at my hands.

-They're amazing.
-What pills?

They're his new meds.
They're not supposed to...

Cliff, how many did you take?

-You do not want to know.
-What the hell is wrong
with you?

Those are dopamine stimulators.

-Boop.
-Get your hands away from me.

Oh, my God. Larry!

You have a neck zit.

Oh... Oh, my God.

Don't worry, I got it.

No, no, no,
no, no, no, no.

-Cliff, sit down.
-Squish it!

Get away from me.
Get away from me.

Oh, God!

God.

Whoa.

So grey.

This has gotta be
the sisterhood, right?

Grid's lost signal.

But yeah.

Everyone stay close.

Let's go,
motherfuckers!

-Cliff! God damn it.

Great. Awesome.

How does this crap
keep happening to us?

Because no one else
gets sent on a mission

by a time-traveling bird lady
to go hunt down some art freaks

who pissed off a half-man,
half-butt monster

who may be trying to
destroy the world.

Yeah, got it.

Uh, someone should stay
with the bus.

What?

I'm not completely useless
without "it," you know?

But you're right.
Someone should stay
with the bus.

Smell you later, bacne boy.

Hey.

Ow. God.

My mother wasn't exactly
an oracle of clever thought,

but she was wise
about one thing.

There's nothing a martini,
or three can't fix.

Well, sometimes it takes
a couple more than three.

Okay, good.

It's dead, Rita.

My body elephant's deceased.

Cremated under
a burning hearth of doubt.

-Oh, no. Why?
-Why? Why?

Why, indeed, and who and what.

Then, Niles's head...

told me about a letter
he wrote some years ago.

The things he says about me.

-Disloyal.

Conniving. Danger... Oh!

Pish-posh. Ha!

Who knows what drove
that manipulative old insect
to write this?

Okay, look, the others
will be back
before you know it,

and I'm sure
whatever they derive from
the Dada folk will help.

Mmm. Well, yeah, about that.

Um, you know, I have no idea,
what the Sisterhood of Dada
will yield.

Every time I think
I've found another
vital piece of the puzzle,

you know, you, the film,
that letter, it's just...

I can manage the despair of
not knowing my history,

my favorite song,
or my favorite color,

not knowing if I have loved,
or have been loved,

but this
polarizing pool inside...

You know, one moment,
I recall an endless joy...

Hmm.

...and the next, an...
An impenetrable hatred.

Like I could very well be
the woman in that letter.

Ah, here I am, yeah.

Pouring my heart and soul out
like some dizzy old housewife.

To you, of all people.

Oh, I...

Apparently, my name is
Laura De Mille.

Perhaps, I came from
decades ago

to maybe hunt
some malicious evil.

It's ridiculous. All of it.

And that is truly dreadful.

Well, sometimes,
you just have to fake it
till you make it. Ha!

Apparently, I'm a time traveler
who makes films,

and has allies
in the afterlife.

I don't feel worthy
of that either,

but I have to believe that

eventually,
my purpose or destiny

will come snatch me
from this infernal stasis.

In the meantime, I drink.

Oh, drink.

And make friends.

Mmm-hmm.

-Wow.

That's some... Phew!
That was very good.

However, I do not think that
my destiny

can quite come and snatch me up
when it's on ice.

There's no way for me to
get home again.

The time machine is broken,

and no amount of faking it
will fix it.

About that.

Oh, Rita Farr.

What are you?

Toad bonnet bee.
Thatcher's blue bum.

Toad bonnet bee.
Thatcher's blue bum.

Toad bonnet bee.
Thatcher's blue bum.

I am so fucking high.

-Whoa.
- Whoa.

-Did you just...
-Did you just...

Wow.

Whoa!

Shit.

Sorry, didn't mean to...

Okay.

Cherry two-ball screwballs?
Fuck, yeah!

What the fuck?

Cliff?

Cliff?

Narc-bot 2000.

Jane!

Hammerhead?

Where are you?

She never listens.

Get the fuck
back here!

Jane.

Mind closing the door?

It's a nasty draft
and all that.

Don't worry.
They can't bother you in here.

Who's they?

You know, the others,
the Underground.

-How the fuck did you--
-Ah! I didn't mean to pry.
Trust me.

And in fact, you're the one
that's inside my head.

You all are.
You and the superhero,
and the robot,

the little radioactive mummy,
is it?

Anyway, as much as I enjoy
a good party,

you're the one
I wanted to talk to, Jane.

Just you.

You separated me
from the rest of
the Underground?

From all but one little voice.

Kay?

There's more
on the bottom shelf here, love.

There's some
chocolate buttons too.

Yeah.

How is this...

What do you mean
we're inside your head?

Well, that's what this is.

Oh, my manners. Pardon me.

I'm Shelley Byron.
Also known as The Fog...

if you like, as you like.

You care
for a little red velvet?

The frosting is seraphic.

-You're with the Sisterhood.
-Beguiling and perceptive.

What a combination.

You sure I can't tempt you
with something...

Something sweet?

You said you wanted to talk.

-So let's talk.
-All right.

-I wanna join the Sisterhood.
-Join...

Did I stutter?

All right, then.
Answer me this.

Who are you, Jane?

Cliff?

Hey.

Hey, brother.

I'm here to join,
this the place?

Brother, why are you?

Where in the fuck...

Oh, hey.
Sorry, I didn't mean to...

Uh, actually,
I have no idea how I...

I'm Jane.
You already know that.

Yes. But who are you?

My God. Really?

-This is what we're doing?
-Yes.

Fine. I'm the person
who's gonna rip your eyes out

if you touch one hair
on that little girl's head.

Oh, amazing.

But still doesn't
really answer the question.

Cool. How about you go first?

Who the fuck are you

and what the fuck are you
and the Sisterhood planning,

because I'm guessing
you weren't leaving
bread crumbs

all across the world
just so that we can sit here

and talk in your weird
Candyland fuck-pad.

Mmm.

You're here
for the Eternal Flagellation.

Sure. What the fuck is it?

Oh. Well,
the Eternal Flagellation,

it's a vulture cleaning
the carcass of an overfed sow.

A powdered donut
sinking into an outhouse pit.

Wow.

That's some art-school level
pretentious bullshit.

Well, maybe
that's what I am, Jane.

Pretentious bullshit.

Manure coursing
through my shrunken veins,

but at least I know.

And the question still remains,
dear Jane.

Who are you?

-Okay, Bye-bye.
- You're limiting
yourself, you know?

You and the girl.

You're never truly free
until you know yourself.

I know myself.

She does, yes.
But you? No.

Go on. Who do you think I am?

I think you're scared.

I think you're prone
to leaning back on old habits.

You think denying your desires
makes you who you are,
makes you strong.

You are the sort
of person, Jane,

who could be
staring an opportunity
straight in the face

and resent the promise of it.

What you believe isn't true.

Even a sorrowful
and unquenchable thing

must savor the taste
of honey sometimes.

Why am I?

Do you mean why am I here
or why do I look like this?

It's a simple question.

I'm Cyborg.

I am because the world
needs justice and order.

I am because
I want to serve and protect.

That was rehearsed and cliche
for a half-man, half-tin-can.

And what are you
supposed to be?

Half-man, half-bicycle?

I assure you, Cyborg,
I'm at least three-fifths man.

But what or why I am
should be of no importance
to you, the great Cyborg.

Come.

Sit.

And maybe I will tell you
of the Eternal Flagellation.

I think
you asked me a question,

but I'm sorry,
I don't understand.

Okay, thanks.

So I guess I'm not
really a robot, technically.

I have a brain. A human brain.

Although it's not
working so good anymore.

It's weird.
I was made to last forever,

but I guess
I can't even do that right.

I didn't think
I'd ever be scared of death.

Spent most of my life
chasing it

and then decades thinking
about it and wishing for it.

I mean, I've been
dead two times over.

Undead, too.
But now it's scary.

I think about Rory.

I think about
never holding him again

or seeing him do his dumb
little baby-fart smile,

and I just...

If I could cry... I'd cry.

A lot.

- Whoa.

Wow, that's...

Is this a hug moment?
It feels like a hug moment.

Bring it in, sister.

What the hell are you?

If you turn out to be a rat...

Okay, Larry,
maybe stop talking
to your magic zit-thing.

Yeah, Larry, you're really
going bananas over here.

What the hell?

- Hello?

- Stolen toast,
weather pony.

Oh, shit. Shit, shit,
shit, shit, shit!

Paul?

Paul Trainor!

♪ And the company jumps ♪

♪ When he plays reveille ♪

♪ He's the boogie woogie
Bugle boy of Company B ♪

Good as new!

So, what do we set it to?

The letter
was dated 1949, but...

the film was 1917.

The possibilities really
are endless, aren't they?

Oh, there, there.

Larry and the others
will be home with news soon

and whatever they find out,
big or small,

will be a step in the right
direction.

And then Laura De Mille
will hop into her time machine

and go back to figure
all the rest of it out.

And you will have
yourself again.

And I know that self is good.

I have an intuition
for this sort of thing.

I need more gin.

That's the spirit!

I'll be here.

Rita Farr.
World renowned time traveler.

Waiting for my destiny.

You have to try this.

-Thank you.
-You're very welcome, my dear.

So what's with this
whole sweet-treats bullshit?

I don't remember.
I built this place a while ago.

Decades, I think.

Time, it moved like
a hummingbird at the Ant Farm.

Fast ellipses,
beats of nothing in between.

Too much of everything.

I was their dragon, you know?

They would drop me
into towns and villages

and I would eat
the whole place up.

Hundreds and thousands
of people crying,
praying, screaming.

And all up in here.

So, as you can imagine,
it got a little crowded.

And I needed a space
that was just for me.

So it's not
just for lost girls.

The Eternal whatever.

That's what this is all about.

You were wronged,
and now you wanna burn
the whole world down.

Sometimes you have to
set worlds on fire

so you can make something new.

Mmm.

Make something of your pain.

Maybe we have more in common
than you think, Jane.

Paul! Oh, my God.

What...
What are you doing here?

No! No, Paul.
Paul, listen to me.

Bang, bang bagel.

Pink and blue.

What was that thing
you mentioned?

Eternal Flagellation?

Is that part of the Sisterhood?

I asked you a question.

Why are you?

Didn't I just answer that?

Did you? Or did someone else
just answer with your voice?

-Excuse me?
-Why are you?

Answer your own damn question.

Why are you?

I am because I have loved
with torrid abandon.

I am because I've laughed
my father's laugh

and I sang the songs
my grandmother sang
in a ship crossing water.

I am because I've bled
and I've suffered and found joy

from between the fetid trees
and in barber shops.

But as I said, why I am
is of no importance to you,

the great Cyborg.

A man who doesn't even
know himself.

A man who knows only
that he is a raised hand.

-And what do you get
when you raise your hand?

Walk down the street?

Drive through town?

Lay asleep in your bed?

Man, what the hell
are you getting at?

Are you saying that
I don't know how to suffer?

That I don't know
discrimination?

How can you know
suffering or joy

without knowing who you are?

Fuck this bullshit!

You don't get to tell me
who the fuck I am!

The only goddamn reason
you're free in the first place

is because of me.

The language of the oppressor.

And to spill from your mouth
with such careless ease.

Imagine my surprise, brother.

I sat in a cage
for near a century

and I emerged Lazarus
and beheld a world the same.

And this is why

the Eternal Flagellation
is so important.

You can tune them out
if you want, Jane.

You're letting them
overpower you.

They're not overpowering me,
they're afraid for Kay.

-Come on, time to go.
-Are they afraid for the girl
or of the girl?

Kay, please, I'll get you more
ice cream later, I promise.

Jane, listen to me.

-Kay, come on!

Jane, you're denying
yourself again.

Wouldn't it be nice to be free?

To express yourself unbridled?

To get lost in your thoughts
and only your thoughts?

Your wants. Your desires.

I'd like that.

- Kay!

You know,
this is definitely

the most fun
I've had in a while.

And don't get me wrong,
you're cool and all,

but I should be with Rory.
I should be living!

Trying new things!
Being the best grandpa ever!

Not running around
on some bullshit mission

because of
Laura fucking De Mille.

Laura De Mille. She sent you.

Laura fucking De Mille.

You can't stop this.

The world needs it.
You need it!

Stop! I said stop!

Why are you, Cyborg?

Because you're born
with this Black skin?

Or because you're made

with their metal disguise?

Fuck you!

♪ And they had each other ♪

♪ Who could ask for more ♪

♪ At the Copa... ♪

Oh, hey, ice cream lady!
What's up?

-There you are, little monkey--
-No, I don't wanna!

Kay, we should go now.
Come on--

No!

I'll see you
on the other side.

And give
Laura De Mille my best.

What the fuck?
What the fuck?

Come on.

My son.

-Hey, hey.

You're okay, you're okay, bud.

It's okay.

You're back!

Larry, I've got news--

Excuse you.

Oh, my God. Is that--

The king. Crow pies--

What the hell happened?

Got our asses handed to us.

But you came back
with something?

- Nope.
-Then we'll just have to
go back and try again.

Give the Sisterhood of Dada
the what for!

Nope. Fuck them.

Sorry, Rita,
but I'm with Cliff.

No, no, no, no, no, no.
I've spent all day
giving pep talks

and fixing up that
blasted time machine
so Laura can go--

Look, let me put this
as plainly as possible.

Fuck the time machine.
Fuck the Sisterhood of Dada.

And fuck Laura De Mille.

-"Grandpa's getting better."

Well, I'm not
fucking dying today.

-Click.

What's going on?

We're keeping an eye
on the girl.

Okay.

Maybe you should
give her some space?

What happened to
"we're all in this together"?

She's just throwing a tantrum.
That's what kids do.

She wants something new
so I'll get her some shoes
and everything will be fine.

I can handle the girl
and her yearnings.

You, however, I don't know
what to do with you.

I can't believe
they sucked you into all this.

I'm gonna get you well again.

I promise.

And nothing's
going to get between us.

As the saying goes,

"If you want
something done right,

you have to do it yourself."

You.

Listen.

You leave it up to me.
Rita Farr.

World renowned time traveler.

Oh, okay. All right.

Rita Farr. Rita Farr.

You know, I've known you
for a little less than 48 hours

and even I know that that
is not who you are. Mmm-mmm.

No. No, no, no.

That's never gonna be
who you are.

Fuck it.