Original subtitles

Previously on "Gotham Knights"...

They think I killed my dad because I wanted his money.

We're gonna find who really killed my dad.

It's literally impossible

for Felix Harmon to be the Talon.

If he really is 130 years old

and still in fighting shape,

who knows what he can survive?

Felix Harmon had a daughter.

Beware the Court of Owls

that watches all the time.

Lincoln.

Have you met my wife Rebecca?

No. I don't believe I have.

Wait. We can't do this again.

That coin you showed me,

it means you're marked for death.

Ugh...

They called us the Gotham Knights.

I'll take that over Bruce Wayne's killers.

What do you think's gonna happen

when they realize their new heroes

are also their most wanted fugitives?

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Backup. I need backup.

-Uh! -Uh!

-Yah! -Uh!

Uh!

Uh!

Uh!

Uh!

Ugh!

Huh!

If you're just joining us this morning,

our top story is the latest in a string

of high-profile art heists

that has swept the city in recent days.

City Hall was the target last night,

and, while authorities won't confirm

which of the many high-priced items

was stolen, a source close to the investigation

suggests the stolen piece is worth millions.

Under pressure to catch the thief,

Commissioner Val Soto announced this morning

that the GCPD enlisted the help

of noted criminologist Detective Sophia Green.

Now, Gothamites may remember Green

as the detective who brought down

notorious burglar Margaret Pye,

otherwise known as Magpie.

Woman, on TV: Well, I don't know about you, Lynette,

but I think this sounds like a job

for our new local heroes the Gotham Knights.

The mysterious vigilantes recently brought down

a drug-smuggling ring...

And we'll be taking a hard pass

on overpriced swirls of paint.

There's a little bit more to them than that.

You seriously want to stick your neck out

to collect pretty things for rich people?

"Collecting pretty things for rich people" describes

about almost every job we've ever pulled.

Well, yeah, but you were paid

cash money to do those jobs.

There's this video of the Gotham Knights

papering the streets with millions.

Yeah, that thing, and it went viral.

Why do they have to keep replaying

the worst day of my life?

Well, at least we didn't walk away from that empty-handed.

Speak for yourself.

We got the ledger.

I'm not sure what we get from an art history field trip.

What, so those paintings

just get sold on the black market,

public never gets to see them again

because cultural artifacts

aren't as sexy as a mob day planner?

-100%. -Exactly.

God forbid we try and save anything

that'll outlast ourselves.

It's not that.

It's just, we have way bigger problems right now

Well, you're right about that.

MM Good Doughnuts was out

of strawberry frosted with sprinkles.

That's my favorite flavor.

How's Brody doing?

His dad's in a coma with a hole through him,

and the attacker's still at large,

so...not great,

and nobody can tell him who did it or why.

Then it probably won't comfort him to know

that it was an assassin as old as the light bulb,

and until we can figure out how the Talon's lived so long,

we've got about as many answers as Brody.

There might be a way to find out.

Yeah? How?

I said I'd get you answers, not give them.

Anybody else worried about that?

I'm just glad the Talon's

on someone else's radar besides ours.

Yeah. It might be helpful if Harvey Dent

could clue the GCPD in to who did it

instead of going with "unknown, sword-wielding assailant"

that he couldn't see because the power went out.

Harvey's smart enough to know

that would make him sound insane.

If he goes public with that, he's gonna sound

like a crazy conspiracy theorist.

And he's ahead in the polls.

He knows he can help us more

if he's doing it from the mayor's office.

If he gets elected.

Harvey.

How is he?

He got through the surgery,

but then a few hours later,

it all went south.

He's been in a coma ever since.

Oh. How are you?

Exhausted, stressed...

worried.

Want to get some air?

When I heard Lincoln was attacked at your office,

I panicked.

I'm sure you were wondering why him, not me.

All I could think about was you.

I can't believe I'm saying this,

but in that moment, I couldn't bear

the thought of something happening to you.

-To me? -Mm-hmm.

-Rebecca-- -Harvey...

what the hell is going on in Gotham?

I don't know,

but until I can get to the bottom of it,

you and Brody need to get out of the city.

It is not safe, OK?

Now, Rebecca, you can't trust anyone.

Can I trust you?

Of course I can.

I don't get it.

I mean, first, the guy doesn't think twice

about tripping the alarm.

Then once the alarms go off,

he just waits for security.

I mean, is he being cocky or just dumb?

He's being smart.

The thief waits for security to arrive

so he can take them out because if they're down,

they can't pursue, and they can't shoot at him

as he makes his way up and out,

and now he has an 18th-century American landscape

to go with the surrealist piece he stole from the Met

and the abstract impressionist canvas he boosted

from the Gotham Museum of Art--

interesting mix of paintings he's collecting.

Well, I'm more concerned with

the interesting mix of M.O.s he's using,

I mean, different style of entry

and exit for every heist.

High-end thieves like this,

they spend years honing their craft.

What kind of burglar changes their M.O.

from job to job?

One that doesn't want to get caught.

Got your text. Stolen car?

Hey.

You stole the school's driver's ed. car?

What? When you bring it back,

it's called borrowing, thank you,

and it was surprisingly easy,

I mean, once I figured out

which steering wheel to hot-wire.

Turns out, it's the one you think.

Cool. I'm still wondering why.

We need answers on how the Talon's so spry

after a quasquicentennial.

-Hmm. -I looked it up.

And what answers do you think you're gonna find

in a 4-door educational tool?

Eh, you always do ask the right questions,

Little Bird, and let's just say

the car isn't the only thing I borrowed.

Ta-da! Look who's back.

Eunice?

So you want help with your homework?

More like extra credit.

Cullen and I were chatting over coffee and crullers

about the stolen paintings and the importance of art,

and it kind of got me thinking,

so I did a little digital digging into the cases.

Trouble is, the paintings

didn't have anything in common.

There's no pattern.

Why steal these, especially when,

as I found out, in most of the burglaries,

the thief passed over other works of art

that were much more valuable

than the ones that were stolen?

So they're after specific ones.

Or maybe the buyer's just really eclectic.

Or maybe there actually is a pattern.

Or maybe this is the most low-stakes mystery ever

and I'm not sure why I should care

about the Case of the Missing Doodles

for Rich People.

What if that rich person was Alan Wayne?

Every painting that was taken was owned

by Alan Wayne at the time of his death.

After that, they changed hands,

moving from gallery to gallery,

owner to owner, but they all used to be his.

That can't be a coincidence.

Nope. It's a pattern.

And who do we know that's interested

in all things Alan Wayne?

The Court of Owls.

It could be them. Could not be.

I mean, but to really be sure...

Is to solve the Case of the Missing Doodles

for Rich People.

Looks like this is a job for the Gotham Knights after all.

This is crazy, even for you.

I know your dad was a villain,

but that does not mean that you have to be.

This is seriously wrong.

No. This is Gotham, and in Gotham,

villains get things done.

Hey, Eunice, we're gonna get you out of there, OK,

but you have to be nice.

-Yaah! -Oh!

-Aah! -Down!

Do not make me tase you again.

You tased a senior citizen?

I put it on the lowest setting. It's fine.

This is elder abuse.

Elder abuse? Really?

You want to talk elder abuse?

Just think of what that poor

nursing home staff has to endure.

Trust me, Carrie.

They're probably relieved to see her gone, OK?

Come on.

There is a century- and-change-old killer

out there right now who survived

you dropping a whole Batcave on him,

so if we can figure out

what makes him live so long,

maybe we can figure out what'll make him die,

and dear, old Eunice is the only

Talon-adjacent person I know.

Come on.

Sometimes you got to be bad to get the goods.

You want to take her arms or legs?

Wow. Thanks, Officer Row.

That rubber duckie is still letting me hack the GCPD.

Thank you, Officer Row.

All in a day's work.

Don't celebrate just yet.

Looks like the GCPD is just as stumped

as we are on all these art heists,

including that new expert they brought in.

Apparently, Detective Green is a bit of a badass.

Rumor going around the GCPD was that

she's the reason Catwoman hung up her claws

before Green could slap the cuffs on them.

Hmm.

Well, where are you headed?

Sometimes you got to leave behind

the comfort of the computer

to get some real answers.

The nation's top art cop has no idea who the thief is.

And you know who knows more

about crime than cops?

Criminals.

Lincoln.

Hello? Rebecca? Are you all right?

I'm still at the house.

I had to get Brody off to his grandparents'.

Why aren't you there with him?

Well, I wanted to get Brody

out of the city as fast as I could.

I've been packing to leave, but--

But what?

Someone keeps calling the house and hanging up.

I feel like I'm being watched.

Harvey, I'm scared.

OK. Listen.

There's a GCPD detail that's assigned to you.

There's a unit downstairs.

There's another one on your floor.

You told me not to trust anyone.

What if someone is watching me,

just waiting for me to go outside?

I don't know what to do.

I'll be right there.

Oh, no.

No, Harper, unless you're here

to give me back all the money

that you and your friends took from us.

You mean all the money you and your pals

took from innocent people?

All right. Look.

I'm in a better place right now.

I'm in therapy.

I'm working out my issues,

and so seeing you,

just a little triggering for me.

I wouldn't be here if I didn't need your help.

Yeah?

Remember what happened last time you said that?

Because I do.

We both made mistakes.

Don't you have any other mob friends?

I thought you preferred family business.

Yeah. Well, business ain't that good,

thanks to you and your pals.

You were gonna turn us in for the reward money.

My therapist made me realize

that I was trying to punish you

for not reciprocating my feelings.

-Dylan-- -I'm working through it.

Look. Truth?

I'm sorry for the way I left things between us.

You deserved better.

And deep down, you know,

I just want you to be happy,

even if that's not with me.

I want you to be happy, too...

but, like, not with me...

Right.

and, honestly, even if you don't want to help me,

no hard feelings.

I'm just glad I got to tell you how sorry I am.

It sounds like you're really

taking care of yourself, Dylan.

Keep it up.

Wait.

What do you need from me?

What do you know about all those art heists?

Oh, shut up.

Ohh...

Oww!

You little bitch!

It's cheaper than waxing,

and--you know what?-- this is gonna be an epic story

for you to go back and tell the knitting circle.

I don't knit.

Is that because they don't trust you

with those big, long needles?

We just want to ask you a few questions.

I spent the last half-hour

in the trunk of a car,

and I am convinced you intentionally

went over the same speed bump

again and again.

-Seriously? -Mm-hmm.

OK. We're really sorry about that, OK,

so how about we just chat for a bit

and then we get you back home in time for dinner?

I don't have anything to talk about

to either of you terrorists.

Technically, we're kidnappers.

Thanks for that.

OK. We just want you to tell us

how your dear, old daddy Mr. Talon

became so Talon-ted--

ha ha ha!--

at not getting dead all these years.

Well, you can just ask him yourself

when he comes to chop off

your adorable, little heads.

Besides, why should I tell you anything?

You stole from me.

That music box was a gift from Papa,

and if you think I'm going to tell you

anything else, you are sorely mistaken.

-Let's torture her. -What?

Oh, what's that, Eunice?

I can't hear you.

You got to speak up.

Oh. Oh, are you having trouble breathing?

-Duela-- -Let me fix that.

Duela, that's enough.

How about now? Can you breathe now?

OK. OK. No. No.

We're not doing that, thank you.

She's fine.

You two are awful.

I'm never gonna tell you anything.

What if I told you we still had your music box?

Oh, my God, If I'm ever a hostage,

will you promise to never negotiate for me?

I'm gonna go get that, OK?

Then I'm gonna come back,

and we're gonna have a nice, little chat.

OK.

So did you get any art-heist-related insights

from the criminal underworld?

They're just as stumped as the cops.

They who?

A former colleague.

I know all of your former colleagues.

Just because you pretend to be a cop

doesn't mean you get to interrogate me like one.

OK. Fine.

I went to go see Dylan.

Dylan? Dylan McKillen?

Yeah. No. You know, I'm sorry.

He does not strike me as someone

with the greatest criminal mind.

No, but he does have ears,

and whoever stole those paintings

aren't any of the usual thieves

who operate around here,

so they think it's someone new.

Well, we may not know who we're looking for,

but I think we know what they're looking for.

There's only one painting previously owned

by Alan Wayne still left un-burgled.

That's not a word.

Anything can be a word if you hyphenate it,

and if our thief is a completist,

which he seems to be, he'll want to add this

to his collection.

That's his next target.

Where's it hanging?

It's not.

It's in storage,

the off-site archives for the Kane Museum.

Oh, no. I know that look.

So, what, we're art thieves now?

Look. If the Court of Owls wants those paintings,

we got to figure out why,

and I can think of one person to ask.

Who wants to go catch a thief?

Sure is an ugly building

for all those beautiful works of art.

We've been here for hours.

Where the hell is this thief?

I should've packed more snacks.

All the other paintings were stolen

- between the hours of 11 P.M. -00.

Unless we're here at the right place,

just on the wrong night.

What if the thief already took it?

Or what if he's just fashionably late?

Where'd he go?

-Oh! -Harper!

Are you hit?

-Uh! -Agh!

-Aah! -Aah!

Waah!

-Are you OK? -It's just a graze.

Just keep pressure on it. Keep pressure on it.

Uhh! Agh...

Uh!

Huh! Uh!

Uh...ah!

Uhh! Oh...ohh!

Uh...uh!

Detective Green?

Yeah.

Hey...

Oh, you are so sweet, dear.

Oh! Ha ha ha!

Ahh...

Wow. That's a lovely ballerina, Eunice.

Were you a dancer?

I was, in fact, an excellent dancer.

May I?

Ah.

When I was young,

I would attend

the most elegant parties the Court would throw.

They always had them in the strangest places--

abandoned mansions

and forgotten train stations,

never the same place twice,

but we would dance and dance

until the wee hours.

That sounds so lovely.

Ah.

Do you remember who was there?

Oh, no, dear. We always wore masks.

-Ha ha ha! -Hmm.

The Court of Owls would give me

everything I could ever want.

Papa made sure of that.

So Papa kills for the Court,

and in return, you get a life of privilege.

Mm. Heh.

Yes. That was the arrangement,

heh, but when Papa was so boorishly condemned

as the Butcher of Gotham

and the entire city wanted him to hang...

I thought I'd never see him again.

That must have been so hard for you.

Mm, mm-hmm,

but on the eve of his execution,

the Court of Owls paid him a visit.

They respected his work so much,

that they presented him with an offer,

one that would allow him to survive his hanging

and imminent death, and in return,

Papa became the Court's enforcer

and did their bidding.

How did he survive?

They imbued him with something,

a substance.

Yeah. What was the stuff that kept him alive?

Oh, it was so long ago, and--

what was it called? Ha ha ha!

Whatever it was, the last was used

by the Court on him, and they have been

searching for more of it ever since.

Tell me what it was called.

Oh--

Oh, you know, I am so parched

-Oh, my God. -all of a sudden.

Would you mind terribly

getting me a glass of water?

Yeah. Of course.

You kidding me?

Sometimes you have to be good to get the goods.

Khagh kho blah!

-Harvey? -Yeah. It's me.

Thank you for coming over.

Of course.

Have you gotten any more calls?

Yes, but I stopped picking up.

Good. Um, OK.

Well, why don't you finish packing, and I'll--

Who is this? Hello?

I'm calling GCPD.

Hey, it's Dent.

I need you to run a trace

on the last call to this number

and then call me on my cell

as soon as you got that.

OK.

I don't know if I'm too scared

or not scared enough.

God, I feel like I'm losing my mind.

No. You're not.

Rebecca...

your husband was just stabbed.

I think you're handling this as well

as you possibly could under the circumstances.

Hey, that was quick. What have you got?

OK. Thanks.

Do you know Miranda Livingston?

Not personally, but Lincoln does.

She's the woman I suspect he's been sleeping with.

Who the hell are you?

We're the Gotham Knights.

You're kidding.

What are you, a cop or a thief?

I'm a cop who's being extorted into being a thief.

Extorted how?

They took my family.

It's just a scratch.

Well, don't tell me that now.

I just ruined a perfectly good shirt for this.

Worst-case scenario,

it leaves a very sexy scar.

Scars aren't sexy.

Agree to disagree.

I was told if I ever wanted to see them again,

I needed to procure a list of paintings.

Any idea who gave the orders?

No.

They've only communicated with me by cell,

always through this burner phone.

They figured since I put away

most of the art thieves in Gotham--

You could figure out how to steal like one.

Turns out, they were right. Uhh!

You need to get to a hospital.

No. I need to get the last painting

to save my family.

Not like that, you can't...

but we can.

Would you be a dear

and wind that back up for me?

Would you be a dear and not call me dear?

I'll just wait for the sweet one to get back.

Huh.

OK. Fine.

Nngh!

Waah!

Oh, you crazy, evil bitch!

Papa told me about the girl

with pretty baby blues that got away.

Oh, I guess I get to finish what he started.

Oh, having a hard time breathing?

Can you breathe now?

Can you breathe now?

-Aah! -Oh! Oh!

What happened?

Well, I tried to be good,

and I got shivved with a ballerina.

Ha ha ha!

Aagh!

D'aagh! Aah!

Did you know that she could stand?

Kind of figured it out on the fly.

Ha ha ha!

This isn't supposed to be here.

Either Detective Green had bad intel or this place

updated their security because of the heists.

This is a biometric scanner

hard-wired into the system.

Which means...

Which means we need a fingerprint

of an employee to get in.

OK, and if we don't have that?

Then we have about 60 seconds after we pop the door open

before the alarm gets really bitchy.

-Smash and grab. -Only faster.

So dash and grab.

How are we supposed to pop the door?

There's not even a lock.

But I may have a key.

Does Carrie know you pinched that from her stash?

Be sure to keep the engine running.

You wouldn't begrudge a jilted wife a drink,

would you?

No. I'd say you've earned it.

And would you join her?

OK, one...

but then I'm putting you

in a waiting security vehicle

so you can go be with Brody.

I suppose Miranda keeps calling

because there's not a hospital notification

protocol for informing patients' mistresses.

She's not the first.

She probably won't be the last.

Sorry.

Sometimes I think that Lincoln

married me not because he loved me,

but because he was looking for someone

to play the role of a dutiful wife.

Well, it's a role you play very well.

I'm not unhappy about Lincoln.

That was over a long time ago.

It's the regret that keeps me up at night.

Oh, Rebecca...

I know.

I'm a married woman,

the wife of your opponent...

and you are Gotham's white knight.

I know what it feels like to be conflicted.

So do I.

Oh...

Go, go, go. 60 seconds.

Uh!

Oh, ho. Oh, my God.

I can't believe I only get to spend 60 seconds in this place.

Stephanie, on radio: Yeah? Well, now it's 50.

Green says the painting's toward the rear of the place,

so look for vertical stacks of paintings filed together.

Harper, how we doing on time?

40 seconds.

Here. Here, here, here.

Tell me what it looks like again.

Uh, it's a seascape.

They're all seascapes.

Does it have a ship, a lighthouse?

There's a medieval-looking tower thingee on a cliff,

and--I don't know-- I think those are sheep.

-Sheep? -30 seconds.

Tower, cliff.

Sheep. OK.

No offense, your great-great-whatever

had crappy taste in art.

Nice.

20 seconds.

Over here.

Go down. Go that way.

The guards are in here. I thought we had 60 seconds.

Harper, on radio: Yeah. Well, that was an estimate.

See anything?

Let's go. The suspects are probably headed back.

I got nothing.

But they're here.

Back in the corner. Go.

-Anything? -No.

All right. Come over this way.

Push in tight. I'll meet you.

Huh?

Hey, this way. Come on.

Come on, come on, come on!

Gun it, Harper!

You kidnapped Eunice? Where is she now?

Carrie's looking after her.

You dragged Carrie into this?

Well, the only one who was dragged

was Eunice.

What the hell happened to your hand?

Eunice!

Oh, and apparently, there was, like,

some secret sauce that the Court

gave the Talon that gives him

some kickass healing ability,

which I could really use right about now

because stigmata is not a good look for me.

-Guys... -What did you find?

Other than subpar brush work,

boring composition, and cliched iconography,

nothing.

It can't be just a painting.

There are no secret compartments.

I already checked.

There's nothing hidden in the frame,

nothing shoved between the canvas.

Well, if the Court wants it, it can't be good.

What if giving this to the Court

puts even more people in danger?

How would a painting put people in danger?

We have no way of knowing

what their undoubtedly nefarious plan is,

but Green's family will die

if we don't get this painting to the Court.

Whatever we're gonna do, we need to decide now.

I just got a drop-off location

and 30 minutes to get it there.

I'm a friend of Detective Green's.

As long as you have what I want,

I don't care who you are.

Bring the painting here slowly.

Where's Detective Green's family?

First the painting.

It's real.

Kill the hostages and whoever this is.

I don't think you want to do that.

And why is that?

Because we brought along a really pissed-off

insurance policy--

Eunice Harmon...

and she is not happy with you and your Owl buddies.

Maybe it's just me, but I don't know

if you want to piss off the guy

who's so fond of chopping off heads.

Release your hostages. Then you get ours.

Come on. We're gonna get you out of here.

Heh. Hey, maybe I'll drop by

and see you sometime.

Off you go.

Aah!

Gun it.

How's it feel?

Better. Thanks.

Please. You saved me from a clip full of bullets

from those drug smugglers.

Least I can do is help you clean up one.

Still...thanks.

You're welcome.

You OK?

Usually, this is when I see the other part of you,

the one that tells me this can never happen again.

Oh, I just wish things had been different for us.

They still can be.

You mean if Lincoln dies.

-I didn't say that. -You didn't have to.

I don't want that. I just--

I just want--

Me.

What about the mayor's office?

I don't think Gotham will let you have both.

Whether I'm a divorcee or a widow,

it won't look pretty to voters.

This town elected Cobblepot.

Anything is possible.

There's something I have to tell you.

What is it?

I--

Now you listen to me, damn it.

Don't you ever call here again.

Oh.

He's--he's awake?

It's the hospital.

Lincoln's come out of his coma.

Some much-needed good news in Gotham tonight

as a kidnapping plot came to an unexpectedly happy ending.

Detective Sophia Green was brought in

to investigate the art heists sweeping Gotham,

making her, and even her own family,

a target of the criminals she was hunting.

Detective Green was reunited with her wife and daughter

after their harrowing abduction.

Fortunately, both were unharmed.

A tearful reunion took place at GCPD headquarters

earlier tonight, and a grateful Detective Green

had this to say to her family's saviors.

I just want to say thank you to the Gotham Knights.

Oh, you know, it's even worse

when a cop says it.

Hey, just because you did a good deed,

it doesn't make you a good person.

-Thanks. -Mm.

Hey.

Hey.

Thought you might want this

as a really messed-up souvenir.

Well, you know me too well.

I thought I knew you well,

but then you kidnapped and tried to asphyxiate

a nonagenarian, but that ended up

being a good thing because it kept the Court

from killing Detective Green's family,

and then I try to do something nice

and get the old bat a glass of water,

and I almost get you killed.

Potato, tomato, Little Bird.

I don't know what that means, Duela.

It means it's Gotham, which is another way

of saying it's complicated.

I mean, case in point, you just brought me

a very macabre, little keepsake,

which is definitely the wrong takeaway

from today, which means...

you're learning.

You're welcome, by the way.

I never said thank you, did I?

What's this?

-What the hell? -What?

Oh, my God.

What the hell are you doing here?

I need your help. My life is in danger.

How many people has the Court killed

while you stood silent,

and then your life is threatened,

and now you want to talk?

You have every right not to help me,

but there is one very important reason

why you should.

What is that?

Because I know what the Court is planning.

I'll tell you everything

as long as you can guarantee my protection.

This is not just about my survival.

This is about Gotham's...

and if you care about this city

the way I think you do,

you'll want to hear what I have to say.

Greg, move your head.

api.OpenSubtitles.org is deprecated, please implement REST API from OpenSubtitles.com