All language subtitles for Archer.S12E01.Identity Crisis.eng

sync & correction by f1nc0
~ Addic7ed.com ~

Saviors of the frickin' world.
Whoo!

And that's what
would have happened.

If you had hired
Cloudbeam marketing.

- Hi.
- But you didn't.

- So it didn't.
- Which is why you're broke.

- No judgment.
- Really? Because I judge it.

- Said our largest expense.
- Hey, alcohol is a group expense!

Seems like we should
have cut alcohol

- before our health plan.
- Eh, vodka disinfects cuts.

Well, I miss
my dark science budget.

- The hell is dark science?
- It's basically science but darker.

I'm sad the wall art's gone.
It riled my loins.

- What doesn't rile your loins?
- Enough!

We're not here to waste time
or prison toilet scotch.

We're here because
these ranting buffoons

think they can solve our problems.

One of her better introductions.

Real talk? The espionage
climate has changed.

Your old spy model
just doesn't work.

Hello, dinosaur?
Meet asteroid.

- But that's where we come in.
- Hello, dinosaur? Meet marketing.

Are they turning us
into a dinosaur?

Honestly, I don't know,
but I'm lovin' it.

Simple version: We can synthesize
your messaging to encourage...

Multitier client sourcing.

Wow, did that just happen?

- That was the simple version?
- Wait.

Does this mean
we're shooting people again?

- Maybe. If we had bullets.
- We sold the bullets?

- Yeah, we're boned.
- No, we're not.

Yes, the government
denied our heroism

and withheld payment.

And yes,
contracts have been drying up,

but I know better things
are right around the...

Around the...

Damn it!

Around the what?
Ass?

- Your entire process is outdated dirt.
- But dirt with potential.

- A nutrient-rich loam.
- Is there life on Mars?

- Definitely.
- Oh-ho, man.

You keep doing
this fun marketing banter

and I'm gonna need
to sit on a sandbag.

You need to get out of the dark
ages of the espionage industry.

I mean, do you even use
Global Spy Wire?

Exactly how many beats of silence

- are you shooting for?
- You're not on GSW?

It's only the online
marketplace for spy jobs.

- Like the classifieds?
- Extra! Extra!

Spy master uses outdated media!

Aw, jeez, don't raise
the prices, Mr. Pulitzer.

"Newsies"!

My god, this is what it's come to.

Hocking my paintings for rent money

and taking business advice
from theater school flunkies.

- I was economics.
- Folklore and mythology.

Why would we use want ads?

- Our phone is ringing off the hook.
- Well, actually,

it has been pretty quiet lately.

Okay, real talk?
The phone is broken.

- Since when?!
- A few months ago?

I don't know. I'd call someone
to fix it, but, you know.

- This is why you need Cloudbeam.
- To buy us a new phone?

To help you, the little guy,

compete with the big
spy conglomerates like IIA.

IIA, pfft.
Soulless vultures.

- Nice uniforms, though.
- I heard they bought Odin,

fired everyone,
then made them reapply

- for their own jobs at half pay.
- That's bullshit.

You can't just fire someone
for no reason.

It would have happened
to me by now.

What's next? Do you fire
someone for breaking a phone

when she was smashing a ladybug
over and over?

Uh, okay, look.
Maybe these guys have a point.

- About us being dirt?
- About us needing help to compete.

My reputation as the world's
greatest spy only goes so far.

Especially since that's
a pre-coma reputation.

- Said pre-nut-tap Cyril.
- What?

- Aaaaah!
- Uh, sorry I'm late.

Robert and I got into another
huge fight about...

- About whether or not we'd care?
- Ugh, actually, sort of.

- It all started when...
- Wanted ads?

- Is that all you've got?
- Hardly.

You also need a strong brand,
and that starts with a good name.

Think of something
people already love.

- Then spice it up with a spy angle.
- Ooh! Anal bullets!

And that feels like
a good place to stop.

Thank you for your interest,
but we simply don't need Cloudbeam.

Fair enough, but I have a feeling
we'll be hearing from you soon.

Yeah, hearing you scream
our names from the rooftops.

"Kaya, Alton, save us!
Save us!"

Anybody else got an eerie feeling
they might be right?

Nonsense,
there's nothing they said

that we can't do ourselves.

Pam, Cheryl, you two
are our new marketing team.

- Brand us.
- I'll get my tools.

- I think she means with a name, cowboy.
- We'll give her options.

As for new jobs, we'll start
with small missions on GSW,

- get a good rating, and slowly...
- Sign up for the most lucrative job

- on Global Spy Wire, boom.
- "Rival bounty situation.

"Cash on delivery of the package.
Multiple bidders."

- Wha... No money up front?
- But big money in back.

We'll be drinking non-swill
from non-plastic in no time.

Idiot!
Do you realize how competitive

- this contract will be?
- Now that I'm involved? Very.

We can't afford this mission.
We can barely afford the flight.

And your testicles can't afford
another cane tap.

- Ah!
- Ugh, let's do it.

After the morning I've had
with Robert, I'd go anywhere.

- Preferably somewhere with...
- A giant heap of rat shit.

- Seriously, Cyril?
- Oh, wait, there's also a pile of rat shit

under here, which means
we're looking at

a men's room/women's room
situation.

This was the nicest place
we could afford.

I'm trying to save our funds.

Not an issue because
I spent all the funds on trânt.

- Who the hell is trânt?
- You mean what is trânt.

It's Moldovan folk wrestling,
and it's fantastic.

You lost all our money gambling
on regional martial arts?

No, my guys won,
but then I had to buy drinks.

It'll be fine.
Here are the briefing papers.

- Double-sided? How poor are we?
- You just spent all of our money.

Yeah, on memories
that will last a lifetime.

Two days ago,
mercenaries kidnapped this man,

known as the Professor.

And that thing is a prototype
for an ionic fusion device.

Ionic fusion device?
What is that?

- An expensive macguffin in a life full of them.
- According to our sources,

he's being moved out of the country
in a few hours on this highway.

We worked all of our contacts
to get this tip,

so our only advantage is this
one piece of information

that none of the big agencies have.

- Greetings, and welcome to Moldova.
- Finally, the conciÚrge.

We'd like a free bottle
of scotch and directions

to a hall of trânt that
takes bets on credit.

- And a room with less rat feces?
- Forgive me for intruding.

My name is Fabian Kingsworth.
I am head of IIA.

Well, well, well.
The competition.

I guess your tiny
agency is competition for IIA

the way coffee
is competition for cocaine.

Yeah, I mean, sure.
I mean, what do you want?

- We're sort of mid-mission here.
- I just wanted to stop by

to get a chance to meet
the Sterling Archer.

I was delighted
to learn you were not dead

but, rather, alive
as a mere shadow of your former self.

Well, looks like
you're chasing shadows,

- since we got here first.
- First?

We set up our command center
weeks ago.

And of course, our satellites
are always overhead.

Which works slightly better
than a guy on a roof with binoculars.

- Oh, yeah? Well, we have...
- A guy on a roof?

No. Something way better than that.

Cold-ass pouring rain.
Cheap-ass binoculars.

That.

I'm rooting for you, Archer.

Like when you see
a beetle on its back,

legs kicking and flailing, not
knowing that he's already dead

as the shadow of a giant
elegant bird falls over him.

- I am that bird.
- At which point,

the beetle hops up and eats the bird!
Ah!

Why build on his metaphor?

And what beetle eats birds?

- Jesus, your forearms are like bowling pins.
- Yes, well, uh...

I should get going.
I'm sorry.

It's emotional meeting someone
I used to look up to.

There is no way
we're losing to that asshole.

Starting now, we stay one...

no, make it two steps
ahead of him.

- Cyril, note that.
- I'm not mission secretary.

- Then what are you?
- Hey, two step,

- Fabian planted a bug on your shoulder.
- Damn it!

Oh!
Why won't this break when you...

Just gonna save us some time.

Okay, new plan:
We follow Kingsworth

and sabotage him and his team
in a super humiliating way.

Archer, we are not risking
this mission and our

lives so you can beat
a better version of yourself.

He is not better.
He said he looked up to me.

- Actually, he said he used to.
- I know what he said!

Y'all!
I just saw a caravan of...

IIA vehicles.
We know.

Well, nice to know my pneumonia

and near electrocution was worth it.

Shut up. Here's the plan.
Ray, find their command center.

Way ahead of you.
They got a jillion cars

over at the
Moldovan bloom hotel.

Okay, Lana and I will follow IIA.

You two stay back here
and pretend

that I'm still with you
so the bug hears it.

And just how
are we gonna do that?

Just pretend we're talking
and do an impression of me.

What, like...
"My name's Archer.

"I'm an egomaniac
who endangers every mission

"with my self-serving narcissism.

Also, I'm inebriated
almost 24 hours a day."

Ha!
That was pretty good, actually.

Lose the "almost"
and then take it again.

Alright!
We can do this.

We're just as good as Cloudbeam.

So espionage names,
espionage names...

Oh, I got it.
S.P. Nosh.

Sure, if you're planning on opening

- a spy-themed delicatessen.
- Hmm.

What would Kaya and Alton do?

"Hey, everything here is old as dirt!"

- "Dirt with potential!"
- "Edible dirt!"

"Loud words and fake laughter!"

So break for lunch?

Ugh, I can't believe
I'm asking you this.

Oh, god.
Look, Lana, I'm flattered.

So just make it quick.

- What? I am not asking to blow you.
- Then open with that.

- God, this is already hard enough.
- Phrasing.

- Ugh, forget it.
- No, sorry, go ahead.

You can't believe
you're asking this, but...

But when you live
with someone who annoys you,

how do you address it
without causing conflict?

Hmm, have you tried making
them eat a bowl of spiderwebs?

What do you want, Pam?

No, there's already a company
called "Spies with thighs."

They're PIs.
They're good guys.

- How may I help you?
- Yes, my name is Chet Manley,

and my wife, Betty, right here

just found a severed thumb
in our bidet.

- Can we please see a manager?
- Oh, my! Yes, just one moment.

There, a block of suites for IIA.
20th floor.

What?

I want to talk to the manager
about that thumb.

Might get a free drink ticket
out of it.

Our target will cross route 90
at 1400 hours.

Per usual, if you're late,
the minutes will be

taken out of your
paid family leave time.

And a reminder:
Bullet rationing is still in effect.

That's $5 per bullet
that misses the target.

I'm looking at you, Andy.

Bullet penalties?
Ha! Suckers.

Well, at least
they can afford bullets.

Once en route, there's no exit
for 80 kilometers.

All right?
We head out in ten.

Ten?
We gotta go if we're gonna...

Do the insanely stupid thing
of sabotaging IIA

instead of just beating them
to the punch?

You know what else
seemed insanely stupid?

- Betting on folk wrestling.
- Sure was.

But I had a great time, Lana.
Congrats on the wedding.

Hope it works out better for you
than it did for Lana here.

Whoa, Boerl & Kroff?

Now I see why you couldn't
afford a suite.

Well, Archer, you're in charge.
What's our next move?

The plan is, we stay here

and wait for instructions, dipshit.

Uh, hey, guys.

Uh, should we order
some room service?

Ugh, god forbid you skip a meal and your
breasts shrink to a B-cup.

God, sometimes I think my entire
life is just sneaking around.

Do you ever wonder if you,
ugh, I don't know,

- made the wrong choice?
- Like how I should've

brought Ray with me
instead of you? Constantly.

- I mean in a relationship.
- I wouldn't call this a relationship.

Not with you!
With Robert!

Oh, yeah, that seems terrible.

But is it?
I mean, I do love him.

- But other times, I'm just like, ugh.
- Yeah, like during old man sex?

How's it work if you both
just lie there?

- Shh! Guards.
- No, employees.

Hey, dickheads,
I'm gonna steal that Humvee.

You better shoot me.

Oof, 20 bullets
and none in my body?

What is that, 100 bucks?

Ha-ha! 200 bucks.

You're basically working for...
Aah! Okay, 195.

Okay, we'll disable their vehicles,

- then go pick up the others.
- With our new helicopter.

- Archer, you can't fly a helicopter.
- Being in a coma

didn't make me less
of a helicopter pilot, Lana.

You never knew
how to fly a helicopter!

Well, then we're both right.

- I'm not getting in that!
- Great.

Grab us a Humvee
and I'll race you to the hotel.

Whoo-hoo!

Oh! Oh, shit. Oh, god.

Ah-ha-ha! Whoo-hoo!

Sorry.
Not a political statement.

Just an accident.

Well, maybe you'd have
a better job

if you didn't have such a
debilitating confidence issue!

And what about you, Ray,
you dipshit?

You live in a studio apartment
filled with mid-century

- craftsman doghouses and no dog.
- A: They're Queen Anne's.

B: Dogs would ruin them.
And C: I'll kill you!

- What the hell is this?
- A helicopter? Get in!

Yeah, I'm good on the ground.

That's an option?
I'm also good on the ground.

Helicopter!

IIA has armored Humvees?

- Ooh. Ooooh.
- Yep. Butt warmers.

We should look into IIA.

That's it, Sheila.
Nice and easy.

- You named the helicopter Sheila?
- No, the stick is Sheila.

The helicopter
is Dr. Whirlington Spinblade.

Okay, I have a visual on the target.
Semitruck, dead ahead.

You see that, Lana?
Step one: Take out IIA.

Step two: Get the scientists.

Step three: Profit.
And a haircut.

It's been, like, two weeks.

Congrats.
You accidentally didn't fail.

And got a free helicopter.

Um, how sure are you
that you finished step one?

- Pretty sure.
- Ah!

So. Let's say, you're some rich,
fancy-pants company

who needs professional spy shit done.

Do you want the cold, hard tile feel

of a big conglomerate like IIA?

Ha-ha! I'd rather kill myself
and take you with me.

Or do you want a boutique
agency that offers a warm,

- personal touch?
- Like a stranger's hand

on your side butt
in an airport shuttle.

When you need spies, you need...

Slugs-n-jugs!
Pew, pew, pew.

I told you we should've gone
with the back and spyin' center.

That's why I think our company

would make
a great investment for...

Oh, you can't
do this to me, Maurice.

You just can't. I...

Hello?

Damn it!

Think, Malory. Think.

No, not that.
Think harder.

Fine.

Can you not?
I'm still learning here.

Dukes!

Butt warmers
and bulletproof windows?

I mean...

Jesus, they sprung
for tracers? That's good prep.

I almost feel bad about
my inevitable triumph.

Triumph?
I've been shot twice.

Archer, you want
to help me down here,

or you just gonna watch me
get rammed from behind?

That one was intentional, right?

- Archer!
- I'm coming.

Also intentional.

- What?
- Hey, Lana.

What about Spies & Dolls?

Well, what does
the doll part mean?

Maybe we leave behind
a creepy doll on every mission.

You know what?
We'll call you back.

- What are you doing?
- What does it look like, Cyril?

I'm using the helicopter blades
to slice open the top of the truck.

Helicopter!

Uh-oh. Apparently helicopters
don't like it when you do that.

- Keep it together, Dr. Spinblade.
- Ah, damn it, I'm stuck.

I'm not leaving without you, Cyril.

Ha, I need something soft
to land on.

Ah, god damn it, Cyril.

What good is your pillowy
beef-suit of a torso

if you don't position
yourself under me?

Hey, I see that scientist guy
down there with the thingy

and three... check that,
one alive kidnapper.

Damn it, I'm out.

Oh, wait, no, I'm not.
Man, IIA's got good taste in guns.

- You got that right.
- What? Who the hell is that?

The guy who wants
to offer you a way out

- of your terrible job.
- How'd you get in my earpiece?

Do you guys seriously
not have satellite?

Satellite?

The microwave in our
break room has a rotary dial.

Silly rabbit.
Warlock six, engage!

Jesus!
Ray, shoot out the tires.

God damn it, Pam!

Hey, shit for brains, I'm busy.
Leave me the hell alone!

I just...
I love you too.

Ah!
Krieger, you idiot.

Why didn't you build a cane
with the jaws of life?

Ha! Look at that.

Cyril, climb into the cab of
the truck, overtake the driver,

- and get behind the wheel.
- Are you kidding me?

How the hell
do you want me to do that?

Squeeze your fat ass
into the cab of that truck

like there's a free box
of twinkies in there.

- Not so fast, punk.
- Oh, shit. Oh, god.

Hang on, I thought
I turned these off.

Ah!

- Sorry.
- Please don't hurt me.

Hurt you?
I'm here to rescue you.

Uh, ignore that ripped-apart guy.

I'm in! We did it!
We won!

Um...
Lana, looks like we're coming up

on a checkpoint with a blockade.

Know anything about that?

That is the border
of Moldova and Transnistria.

Did you not read the briefing?

Who reads the back
of a two-sided briefing?

What the hell is Transnistri, Lana?

It's a tiny breakaway country
from Moldova

that is literally one side of the river.
Lovely people.

Here's a fun twist.
My brakes don't work.

That was me. I scrambled
the electronic braking system.

I'll just grab
the prototype and skedaddle.

Ope! I say.

Poor Archer.
So diminished.

He wouldn't make it
through the first round

- of screening at IIA.
- Don't try to convince me to join IIA

- by playing mind games, Fabian.
- You? Join the IIA?

At what feels like a quarter
of your former strength?

- How's this for a quarter strength?
- Yes, with the cane.

- But without it...
- Whoa, oh!

Oh!

Looks like I'll be
taking this after all.

- Good effort, Archer.
- Fabian!

God damn it, he's getting
away with the prototype.

Shit.
We've got bigger problems, Lana.

He broke my cane.

And I was still learning
about its new features.

Um, guys?

- Still no brakes up here.
- If I may interject...

God, you just had
to prove that you were

better than Fabian, which you
most obviously are not.

- It's not obvious to me.
- Guys?

If I may, that prototype
is useless without

the uranium glass gamma lens
I have in my pocket.

Plus, all the necessary
information is in my brain.

Ha, hear that, Lana?

See? There is one piece
of good news in all...

Jesus Christ, Cyril, look out!

He needed me, and I let him down.

- He's strong. He'll make it.
- Oh-ho, boy.

- Not this coma shit again.
- Yeah, comas aren't

as entertaining
to watch as I hoped.

Hey, you guys ever do this to me?

- Oh, god.
- Better believe it.

Oh, absolutely.

Oh, sorry, Ms. Archer sold
my good life-support device.

This one's made out of a washing
machine and a leaf blower.

Good morning, this is...

- The... Agency.
- Good enough.

- That wasn't bad.
- Don't hate it.

This is the client.
I need the scientist.

- I'll give you a million.
- Well, he is in a tiny, little coma.

- Make that 200,000.
- Or we defer payment

until he wakes up,
and at that time,

we'll require the entire reward,
plus his medical expenses,

10% for our troubles,
and a five-star review on GSW.

- Deal?
- Uh... Deal.

- Uh, aren't we still super poor?
- As it happens,

the agency's purse strings
have loosened up a bit.

I was able to find us a new financier.

But no more
unnecessary expenses.

Wait.
Uh, is that a new crystal tumbler?

You're damn right.

sync & correction by f1nc0
~ Addic7ed.com ~