All language subtitles for Archer.S12E03.London Time

Another win for
the greatest spy on Earth.

- Lana? Win toast?
- It's nine o'clock in the morning.

Yeah, and champagne is, like,
the breakfast of alcohols.

Congratulations, team.

Your success has given
your company great buzz.

- "Roomful of bees" buzz.
- Bees with buzz cuts.

- Swarming Buzz Aldrin.
- That's a lot of buzz.

And Robert's sizable donation

to the environmental fund
didn't hurt.

Arguably, it did most of the work.

That's a heavy check
doing some heavy lifting.

- But still.
- Great buzz.

I notice you say "buzz,"

but we hired you for "job offers."

Don't worry, you are top
of mind for many stakeholders.

- You just need a splashy success.
- Not that this wasn't a success.

But it was a normal success.

- And now we get splashy.
- Cannonball!

I'm sorry, saving an entire plane
from hijackers isn't splashy?

Buzz is also saying
that was like 80...

- Uh, 85.
- Percent an accident.

That last 15% was all me.
Uh, sorry...

all me with an assist
from my supporting cast.

- Ugh.
- Anyway, keep up the good work!

And remember:
leap without a net.

Alton, where's your parachute?

Oh, boy.
If my head wasn't attached...

- Useless.
- Speak of the devil.

Guys, I found something amazing.

I was re-organizing
our old filing system

and discovered
we have an open contract.

Something about ongoing service

for "high sensitivity battery
replacement" in London.

Oh, goodness. I haven't
thought about that in years.

- So, you gonna...
- Shh, shh, shh, I'm remembering.

- We talking beefcake?
- This is a closed meeting.

Duh-doy. Why do you think
we wanted in here so bad?

Now give me dem deets.

Fine.
The man is Cornelius Varma,

great grandnephew of the
Indian Maharani of Travancore.

He had the physique
of a tawny Adonis,

- and the nimblest fingers you've ever...
- Okay, Mother. We get it.

I'm referring to the way
he placed bugs.

Jesus, I don't need to know
what you call it.

Wait, why were you
bugging the British?

- It was a different time.
- 1812?

- Cyril, you were saying?
- Well, according to the case file,

if the batteries are replaced,
the bug will release a code.

If we transmit the code

to the account
where the money is held...

- Dolla dolla bills, y'all?
- Bingo.

Not flying to England to
change a battery for 20 bucks.

- It's pounds, Lana.
- You know what I meant.

And I know
how to finish my insults.

Jeezy Petes. I just checked
the battery bank account.

With interest, it's currently
holding over a million dollars.

- What?
- Oh, that's cute.

I think for this,
you're going to need an assist

from someone
who knows the territory.

Someone who, if need be,

can call on an important ally
in a pinch.

And who's that, he said,
dread creeping into his voice?

- Was the cat suit really necessary?
- For me? No.

It's more for the public.

- Oh!
- Ugh, still got it.

Thank you, Sterling.

And by it, I mean this image,

burned into my retinas
till the end of time.

Lucky boy.

sync & correction by f1nc0
~ Addic7ed.com ~

Geez, this place is as dusty
as a... a...

- A desert in a sandstorm?
- My signed oath to do no harm?

- Eleanor Roosevelt's vagina?
- Aww, sad if true.

Stop.
I would have had something.

- Lana got in my head.
- Not really a challenge.

Pardon me.
Delivery for Lana Kane?

Damn it, Krieger, I thought you
told me this place was secure.

I told you,
or you thought I told you?

Ugh. Just leave them by the door.

- Right, then.
- Nope, take them back.

If Robert thinks for one second

that a handful of glorified weeds

can make up for what he said to me,

- he is more mistaken than...
- You were for marrying him?

- Ha! I'm back, baby!
- Focus. According to our records,

the bug was still active

until the battery went out
three years ago.

Since it was powered down,

there's a good chance it hasn't
been picked up by sweeps.

So, here's how we retrieve it.

Sterling and Lana,
you'll be making ingress...

I don't know
if we'll have time for that.

Ugh, not what it means.

Through the second
story window.

Cyril, you'll stay on the ground

and monitor the area
for reinforcements.

Try not to eat
anything important.

This is my last one forever.

You talking to us,
or the ten bars in your pocket?

Pam and Cheryl,

you'll surveil from the square
across the street,

blending in as...

Fancy English ladies.

My hat is huge.

You know, we British
invented giant hats

as a way to temper an overly
aggressive pigeon population.

- Wait.
- Oh!

- Is that true?
- Meanwhile, I'll be in the van with Krieger,

running the entire show
with immaculate precision.

Just like the Rockettes.
Jazz legs.

Once you're in position...

- Post coital.
- Post ingress.

- Same thing.
- It's not.

Krieger will jam
the alarm system.

- What about the bug?
- Some of my best work.

Not bad, Mother.

I modeled the breasts
on my own.

Is it possible for you to just not?

And you'll be happy to know,
they're still a dead match.

I was happier before I knew.

So how do we get
the code off the bug?

I whipped a little something up.

- Sorry, do you have anything bigger?
- Dude, this is ancient tech.

It doesn't interface
with anything modern.

- And the giant flashing lights?
- Those are for me.

Got the code.

Good. Now rub the center
of my breasts to reactivate.

- What?
- Sorry, the breasts.

I'm terrified
of crossing a societal taboo

- that exists for a reason.
- Oh, my God.

- Was that so hard?
- No.

You're not just some
sugar-guzzling, self-flagellater.

You're part of an elite spy team.

Case in point.
I've got someone on approach.

He's looking right at me.
Now he's waving at me.

And I'm waving back?
Hello.

Oh, I think that went really well.

- No, no, no, no, no. Bad news.
- What is it?

My jamming of the alarm
system is itself being jammed.

- It's a classic double jam!
- So the alarm is reactivated?

Sterling, get out of there!

Oh, wait,
now he's picking up a rock.

Yep, he's throwing the rock.
Oh!

He almost hit
that security camera.

And now I'm waving at it.
Cheerio.

For once I feel comfortable
saying that wasn't me.

Run, you dimwits!

Cyril, you were supposed
to watch the street,

not your goddamn candy bar!

I was.
And I... I didn't.

I put the candy bar away.
It was a really big moment.

Well, thanks to you, our next
big moment is British jail,

which is probably pretty nice.

- This day was going so...
- Characteristically unwell?

- Ow!
- Shit, did that hurt?

- Get the suitcase, asshole.
- Right, right, yeah. Of course.

Mission update: we failed,

and Lana got punched
by some sort of magician.

A suspect has been identified

in the late night break-in
at number 10 Downing Street.

Darling, did you have
to look straight on?

- Like his profile's any better.
- Malory, please.

It was a mistake
any of us could have made.

Some speculate
that the burglar is American,

due to the American candy
wrapper found at the scene.

If the U. S. Government
is involved,

it would mark
the first hostile exchange

between the two countries
since the War of 1812.

Does this count as splashy?

Okay, team, no need to panic.

Let's just take stock
of where we are.

- Well, the suitcase is gone.
- Along with our payday.

Cyril, stop talking about
candy bars, you zero.

Wait, I can do better.
The... the three musketeers

would pay a bounty of 100 grand
to send you to Mars.

Boom, score.

- Is no one even gonna snicker at that?
- Ugh. Just kill me.

If it wouldn't attract more
attention, I would have already.

Now stand in the corner
and look at the ground.

I want options, people!

Well, I did put
a tracker on the suitcase.

- What?
- I also put a receiver in the tracker

so it can record data
from the bug.

So we just bugged
the British prime minister?

- It really is 1812.
- Lana and Sterling,

track down the thief
and secure the suitcase.

Take Idiot One
and Idiot Two as lookouts.

Mummy wants us to go on an outing.

- How exciting!
- Indubitably.

- A truly professional outfit.
- The gentleman's complimented our hats.

- Well, this won't get old.
- And the lady's a right ol' crank.

- And Cyril?
- Yes?

I have a plan for you after all.

According
to Krieger's tracker,

the suitcase napper is keeping
to crowded public spaces.

Suitcase napper? What is
he, a nursery rhyme villain?

Or whoever.
Who do you think he is?

An IIA Agent, probably.
Why don't we just save time

and intercept him
at their headquarters?

Because, genius, there's no
IIA headquarters in London.

- Well, that's inconvenient.
- Hi, guys.

My tracking device tells me
he's 300 feet ahead of you.

Time to nap the napper.

See, Lana?
See how stupid that sounds?

Pam, Cheryl.
Do you have eyes?

Neither hide nor hair.

- 'Tis like an apparition fair.
- Miss Cornish,

Miss Worcestershire,
your table is ready.

I shall ring if I see him.
Ta-ta.

You know, we Brits
spike our tea with opium.

That's why it's called "high tea."

- Nuh-uh.
- Look it up.

Wait!

Oh, thanks.

These wretched servants
come out of nowhere!

I think Mother's right
about cutting their salaries.

Whatever. It can't be that hard

to spot a Black guy
in an English crowd.

Damn it, London's actually
really diverse.

Wait, there.
Krieger, I've got him in sight.

Stand by for apprehension.

Archer, I'll cross, you cover.
Archer?

- Look, Lana, British tchotchkes.
- Oh, will you pay attention?

I can pay attention and shop.

Two pounds? You wish.
Actually, is that a lot?

- I'm not clear on the exchange rate.
- I found the guy.

- Where?
- What the...

Man, this guy's like Houdini.

Meaning he hopped in a cab
while you weren't looking?

- While you weren't looking.
- I was looking... at tchotchkes.

You aren't going to turn me
into fertilizer, are you?

Please,
your candy-infused blood

would kill anything
it came in contact with.

Ouch, but point taken.

What's with all these
overly decorative pests?

- You mean butterflies?
- Kill them as caterpillars, I say.

So we aren't here
to murder me,

and we're clearly not here
to enjoy this beautiful garden.

- So what are we doing?
- We're meeting Cornelius Varma.

The beefcake from 50 years ago?

The ultimate agent.
He'll fix your mess,

and then maybe
make a mess out of me.

Eesh.

Malory!
Brilliant of you to come.

I think I need
to talk to your son.

Maybe grandson?

Poppet, come on, it's me.

- Your beefcake turned into beef jerky.
- Oh, eat a gum drop.

Look, there's the Ravenmaster.

Legend has it that if the
ravens ever leave this tower,

the British Empire will crumble.

Heavens to Murgatroyd.
What a frightful thought.

Hey! What the...

- Take that, you wankers!
- The hell?

- The ravens are androids.
- Guards!

Wait!

'Tis a dangerous country.

What are we supposed
to be doing?

Pick up the phone.
Pam's not answering.

More bad news:

the shop wouldn't exchange
the keychain you broke.

More, more bad news:
the suitcase is on the move.

- Oh, bill me.
- Can I also bill you for a memory?

Because this one is ruined.

'Ello, 'ello.
What modeling agency

might I be dropping
you off at, love?

Oh, you're too kind.

- It's actually a porn shoot.
- Bugger me.

That's actually
the title of the porno.

Our friend will direct you
to the studio.

Howdy, howdy.

- Careful, he might think you're fun.
- I am fun.

- Ha!
- Oh, "ha" what?

She grumbled, not understanding
the sound of human laughter.

What are you talking about?

It's like rule number one
of our group dynamic, Lana,

that you're not
and have never been fun.

No, rule number one is,
"Don't tell Pam a secret."

Fine. Rule number two then.

- Are we close?
- Nope.

And here we are.

Wheat germ sandwiches
and decaffeinated tea...

good for the sciatica.

Cornelius,
we're on a bit of a schedule.

My intelligence said
you were still an active agent.

Wrong on both counts, I'm afraid.

Bad knee and bad business,
ever since IIA took over.

- How are you faring?
- Thriving.

- We're broke.
- You want my advice?

Make a deal with IIA,
pocket a few quid

for bugging the prime minister,
and retire.

Close down? Like some
pathetic independent bookstore?

It's less dreadful
than you may think.

We're both getting old, poppet.

And they can pry my agency

from my dead,
grenade-holding fingers.

- Ah, you sound very American.
- I sound like you used to.

Remember why we got into this?

To bring down the powerful.

No one could afford
not to be afraid of us.

- And in that way, you were truly free.
- Hmm.

You haven't changed a bit.

- And I never intend to.
- Very well, then.

I'll contact my people to see

if we can dig up anything
on your IIA agent.

But, Mal, I'd like you to do
something for me in return.

Fine, but keep it over the shirt.

That's your example
of me not being fun?

Oh, I have more.
Like the time you made me

- change two diapers in one day.
- For your own child.

And then there was the time
you made me

not sleep with that diplomat's wife.

And the time you made me not
sleep with that czar's wife.

And the time you made me
not sleep with...

These are examples of you
being a dick.

And frankly, Lana,
you responded poorly.

- Because you're no fun.
- Well, what about the time in Sicily

when we got pegged as agents,

and I roundhouse kicked
a bouncer in the face?

- How is that fun?
- I was wearing kitten heels.

Krieger, are we getting close?

Oh, God, no.
The target is at the British Library.

What?
That's like two miles away.

- How is he moving so fast?
- On the plus side,

it looks like Cheryl and Pam
are right on top of him.

You can't hide
your secrets forever.

I know about the magic books, I does!

Damn, you're heavy
for a skinny girl.

Pam, the target
is running right past you.

- Who?
- The spy, Pam. With the suitcase.

Literally the reason we're in London.

Oh, right. Yeah, I...
I don't see anybody.

How can that be? And how
is he covering ground so fast?

This city is packed.

Through the secret escape tunnels
in the British sewers.

Ugh, why don't you Americans
know anything?

Huh. Does she know
what she's talking about?

I truly have no idea.

Ugh, so, how far we walk
through human feces

before we decide this isn't
a secret escape tunnel?

- Bermuda! Ha!
- Not sure this sewer is transatlantic.

No. My proof that I'm fun.
15 years ago in Bermuda.

Oh. You mean, Bermuda, Bermuda?

Like, back when
we were first together?

We were on that stakeout, and
it was taking a really long time.

By the river.
I was fun with you four times.

Then two more times in the river.
Sploosh and bam.

- Nope, doesn't count.
- Oh? Why not?

Because you never did it again.

And now you've depressed me
by making me remember,

actively sucking the fun away.

And that's the last
active sucking you'll ever get.

- Phrasing.
- Obviously!

Everyone, our man
is approaching the London Eye.

Look out, Old Blighty!

Cornelius Varma is coming
for one last hoorah.

Okay, to catch this guy,

I say we surface to the street,
hijack a speedboat,

and joyride through the River Thames.

Or we just keep moving this way,

- which would be ten times faster.
- See? No fun.

Oh, God, of course this happens

- when I'm in a van without bazookas.
- Take a left at the corner.

There's an open alley
we can fit through.

No, they shuttered that ages ago.

The only way through London at
this hour is the chockablock route.

The chockablock route?
We nearly died last time.

Since when are you afraid
of a little danger?

We'll need a bike.

- Seems I've secured one.
- Oh, Cornelius.

- Do you think they're going to...
- Yep.

There... wait. Why would
he get on a Ferris wheel?

Wow, you're really not
getting this "fun" thing.

I mean it's a dead end, you dick.

Shit.
Not if you have a helicopter.

- Everybody get here. Now.
- Yes, ma'am.

Go where?
It's bumper to bumper.

Then I guess
the bumper is coming with us.

- Ah!
- Ah!

Upshift! Upshift!

Damn it, woman!
Would you like to drive?

I thought you'd never ask.

It's okay!
We're Americans.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

- Tchotchkes!
- I see them.

- I meant avoid them.
- Oops.

Next time.

Damn, this guy's good
at climbing Ferris wheels.

- Where is everyone?
- We made it!

My sincerest apologies.

Remember that time we were scouting

that iron ore mine in Madagascar,

and you told me not to
swallow ferromagnetic flakes?

- Archer, it's not the time.
- Always the time, Lana.

Because if I had listened
to you then...

You wouldn't have
projectile vomited chunks

that stuck to the break room fridge

so they had to throw
the whole thing away?

Well, yeah, that.

And also, I wouldn't have
the idea to do this.

Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!

I am the magnet master!

North and south polarities
are mine to command.

Be careful.

Yeah, Archer.
Listen to Mummy.

Fabian?

You really haven't
changed the frequency

of your comms after I broke
into them last time?

Top notch spy craft there.

How's this for spy craft?

I would say, not great.

- And I would say, shut up.
- Archer! The helicopter!

Backup would be nice anytime.

Pam? Cheryl?

I have no idea what
we're supposed to be doing,

but I think you own
a rugby team now.

Whoo-hoo!
Long live the zombie king!

Gotta admit,
this was way more fun

than acting like normal tourists.

You know, tourism
was developed by the British

to drum up support
for the expansion

of an increasingly
destructive empire.

Its violent, cannibalistic success
is basically the reason

- the world will end in 50 years.
- Bullshit.

See you boys on the pitch
or court or whatever.

- Wait!
- I know.

Traffic's on the right.

Sorry!

Ah!

I can't help
but notice that your team

is not as polished as we used to be.

Eh, you work with
the people you can get.

Archer! Jump!

Sorry, mind if I use you
for something?

Lana!

Now that's splashy.

Wait, wait, wait, what about,
"How's that for a splash?"

You know what?

- Whoops.
- I could have died.

How did you know I'd react in time?

- I didn't.
- You are fun.

Well, thank you, Max Eisenhardt.

Hey, call me Magneto.

- We did it!
- Yay!

Krieger, what's
the chatter in Parliament?

They're blaming
the incident on the IIA.

Cornelius gave them
a photo of an employee

who looks exactly like Cyril.

Oh, who's the unlucky
handsome devil?

This guy doesn't look like me.

- He's just dough-faced and depressed.
- Sounds like they nailed it.

So what are you we going
to do with the bug now?

- Sell it to the highest bidder?
- I'm holding onto it.

You never know
when you'll need to knock

- the powerful down a peg.
- Wow, Mother.

I thought the only principles
you stuck to were dry martinis

- and never tipping the help.
- Apparently, I have a third.

That's strangely nice.

But why was Cornelius so willing
to put his life on the line for us?

Exactly how close were you two?

Let's just say he knows
his way around a catsuit.

And let's not say anything else.

Uh, is that zinc oxide
in your cleavage?

Yes.
That's from a boating trip.

- Stop. Don't say it.
- A motorboating trip.

Still got it.

sync & correction by f1nc0
~ Addic7ed.com ~