Original subtitles

Last season on Harley Quinn...

I got my green on.

Batman created zombies instead of going to therapy, for fuck's sake.

Joker became the mayor.

I went CEO at the LOD.

And Harley, she joined the Bat Fam.

All right, y'all caught up?

Come on! I'm just trying to...

Nerts, that hurt!

I am just trying to drop off lunch

for my hot and powerful girlfriend.

Ow!

I can't let good guys into the Legion of Doom.

Hey, babe, is the Bat Signal working?

Uh, yeah, why? Wait, wait.

D... Does it not work during the day?

Honey, you forgot your lunch.

So I thought it would be, like, sexy if I, like, did a crime,

and then you and the Bat Fam showed up.

Aw, I'm at the LOD with your lunch, ohh.

God, we're cute.

So damn cute.

Shit, more guards are coming.

There must be, like, a shift change.

Okay, good luck with your first day.

I love you so much. I gotta go.

Love you more.

- Lex. - There's my new SHE-EO.

Girl power and all that stuff.

You know, I got some pretty big plans.

I'm starting with the corporate rebrand.

What do you think of, like, socially conscious evil?

Totally. Totally.

First, I thought I'd destroy an oil rig safely, obviously.

And make the execs drink all the oil, and boom,

high body count, zero environmental damage.

All the deets are here in this color-coded tabbed binder.

Mmm.

Well, you know what? I think we'd start things off on the right foot

to do, like, a ceremonial handing over the keys in front of everyone.

Can't. I'm going to my launchpad on the roof

and then heading to the moon.

The moon. That's cool. That's cool.

Hope the rocket isn't shaped like a giant penis.

Am I right?

There is a scientific reason

the rocket needs to look like that.

All right, this is you.

Lean in, disrupt, and things of that nature.

It ain't no thang.

Oh, shit. That was terrible.

Move, lady.

I want a perfect view of the doorway for where the new CEO comes in.

I hope he's chill. I hope he thinks I'm chill.

Shut up.

I want to be able to hear the new CEO's footsteps.

Oh, uh, so I'm guessing nobody sort of, um, let you guys in.

But, uh, surprise. I'm the new CEO.

Fuck, it is true.

Look at her mug.

Frick.

She must have slept with Lex.

I hope she gets pregnant.

Lex bowed to the woke mob and hired a skirt.

Okay.

Why don't we all just, like, take a seat and we can all discuss...

How you think we should stop

brewing the break room coffee with beer?

Yeah, well, 'cause that sounds fucking gross.

But listen up. The plan is socially conscious evil.

Now, if you look in your dossier,

you're gonna see how together we're gonna make that happen.

Never.

If this folder wasn't literally perfect for doing lines off of,

I'd throw it in the trash.

That's right, the trash.

Even though I know this is recyclable.

If we wanted to get bossed around by a lady,

we would get girlfriends.

This is so not chill!

Oh, shit. That's a grenade.

Fuck.

"Wonder Woman's favorite winter salad recipes"?

Oh, God. She has more than one? Kill me.

Ooh, the Hottest Hotties list.

Such a fun issue.

I start a new gig in, like, 20.

Don't wanna show up early and seem like a try-hard, you know.

The hell?

Devora Macklewaithe's number three?

What makes her so hot?

Miss Macklewaithe has the most beautiful clavicle in Gotham.

For sure, I mean, whatever a clavicle is,

she certainly, certainly got a nice one.

Oh, Professor Pyg, I can't be seen talking to you, no offense.

Because I'm not a hottie?

Notties are people, too.

'Cause I'm a major player on the hero scene.

Yep, me and Wonder Woman.

You know, she called spinach the new romaine, but the old kale?

Uh, okay.

That old lady seems to be having one heck of a time crossing the street.

I gotta go save her ass, bye.

It's a bird, it's a plane.

It's motherfucking Harley Quinn!

Hello?

Was my pose not dramatic enough?

I blame your very soft lighting.

Harley, it's great to see you.

Oh, Captain Boomerang.

He knows his angles.

Okay, so what's the plan? We kicking his ass?

I mean, it's Monday, so he's probably at bingo at the senior center.

He loves a mature woman.

Ugh, ew.

We're just updating our criminal database.

Yeah, we can't kick anyone's ass until they actually do crimes.

Oh, great, great, okay.

What... What if we go on Cleggslist,

and post a job opportunity for "murderer",

then bash the skulls of anyone who applies?

We're heroes.

We update records, do paperwork and stay fit,

until the computer tells us there's a crime.

Cool. Yeah, yeah.

Um, how about while we do that,

we get to know each other better?

You know, my three biggest turn ons are...

Harley, your frivolity is not an asset here.

Geez, sorry for trying to get a vibe going.

Ooh, now, that's good lighting.

My skin looks slick as a...

Sorry, I shouldn't say. There are children present.

A pair of titties at a car wash.

You need to get the shades or I'm gonna photosynthesize everywhere.

I did put in the request, but I don't want to get your hopes up.

Because when I went into the supply office, the clerk says to me,

all the Soviet era dental clamps and industrial-size funnels

that I need for my plan to work got checked out.

Who else would need those?

Okay, I know they're fucking with me.

Ugh, yes. At least I know my outfit's here.

See, I'm gonna seize the oil rig

in, like, a crisp 19th-century British Royal Navy Captain's uniform.

Ooh, that's fresh as hell.

"I'm a dumb boss."

- I don't hate the bottoms. - Great.

Ugh, I mean, if this gaggle of obtuse plebes

keeps cockblocking me,

I'm never gonna get anything done.

I might as well be the CEO of nothing.

Everything is just like it was before.

I'm doing it on my own, yet again,

just in a bigger office.

Maybe you need to put your oil plan on hold

and disrupt the corporate culture in this bitch first.

No, I... I... I don't wanna manage people.

I just wanna do my...

What the... Fuck you!

I see your point.

Did Harley end up killing Sheryl Sandberg in Jackson Hole last year,

or did she survive?

No, that was Andy Sandberg.

Okay, perfect.

I'm gonna spend the next four hours

numbing my brain with idiotic Lean In TikTok.

Ugh, this is so boring.

Fighting crime is supposed to be fun and dangerous and sexy.

Oh, my God, look!

- What? - Nightwing's a Hottest Hottie?

"With rare flare from his derriere..."

"Nightwing's radiant rump has him flying in at number two."

Oh, I can't believe I know you!

Do you have a publicist? Is it Wonder Woman's publicist?

God, this is so cool. But what's with the pap shot?

I won't degrade myself going to a photo shoot for that trash rag.

Yes! A crime to solve.

But you should consider getting some tasteful nudes taken

while you're in peak physical form.

Your grandchildren will definitely want them.

Okay, guys, a dead body's been found.

- We gotta go. - Cool, a dead body.

Not so fast.

It's visitation day at Blackgate.

And your papa awaits.

Ugh, I never get to see dead people.

Ew, oh, my God.

That's Mally Tomberson.

- Who? - The, ugh! Only a huge Waynestagram model,

and heiress to the Old Gotham Corn Factory.

Last night was the launch party for her Hard Corn Water, hello?

Hello. You mean whiskey?

Legally, she can't call it that.

She explained it all on her live stream.

God, you guys are so uncultured!

So, do you look for DNA? Dust for prints? Seduce the bartender?

This cut's clean.

The killer could have a background in surgery.

Another body's been found

at the Hard Wayne's Gonna Fall Ice Cream Pop-Up Experience.

Ugh, I'll handle it.

Should we send them our ice cream orders?

Everyone says Childhood Trauma Swirl is really good.

Ew, this place smells like a hamster cage.

Oh, Mr. Pennyworth? Young Master Damian?

I'm afraid you won't be able to visit Master Bruce today.

So I missed the dead body just to do absolutely nothing?

"Master Bruce"? Who are you?

Oh, I'm his butler, Alvin.

But I'm his butler.

Well, I'm his penal butler.

I must insist on seeing Master Bruce immediately.

Oh, unfortunately, his DJ lessons are running a wee bit long.

Now I must get back.

We have a call with the CFO of Wayne Enterprises.

The stock prices have leveled off.

Hopefully, we can avoid the trigger.

Uh, I'm sorry? You're on a financial call?

Oh, sweetie.

He runs every big decision by me.

Ta-ta.

Hmm.

The thing to remember about managing people

is they're inherently stupid, needy and fragile,

which means they're easy to manipulate.

Ugh, another ad? Gotta get the pro account.

Is that my scarf?

Whoa, what's gotten into you?

I got all horned up at a crime scene today.

You know what I think would be superhot?

Role playing.

Okay, yeah, what, all right. What do you have in mind?

- Okay, you're a super-sexy crime boss... - Uh-huh.

And I am a sexually-pushy cop

who will cross any line to get answers.

Okay, I like the sound of that.

- Who is it? - Oh.

Who in your circle of sickos is a surgeon?

Oh, eh, um...

Dr. Big Boobs?

No, not Dr. Big Boobs, a real surgeon,

one with a fetish for amputation.

Oh, sorry. Okay.

Sor... Sorry, Officer.

Um, it's Dr. Berkowitz.

Not your dermatologist.

God, the perp I'm tracking's whereabouts

are unaccounted for from 1:00 to 2:00 a.m. last night.

Tell me who it is!

What, you're not into this?

Honey, are you trying to get me to narc

on one of my new co-workers through sex stuff?

Yes, I'm sorry.

I really want to figure out who did it so I can impress the Bat Family.

And I thought you could just like, I don't know, give me the answer?

Babe, I can't.

Listen, I don't even know what half of those posers are up to, anyway.

They don't tell their one true queen their devilish schemes?

Who's disrespecting you? I will kill them!

Oh, that's so sweet.

You know, if we're gonna make our new jobs work,

we do need to establish some boundaries, right?

Like, I'll handle my work thing

so you don't have to worry about that.

I got some fresh ideas already brewing.

I love when you make your idea face.

Okay, now I'm all horned up again.

How about you're a super-sexy crime boss who's had an annoying day,

and I am your sexually-pushy underling.

Cater to my fragile male ego.

Nope, he's dead, missing, hates me, hate him, dickhead, dead dickhead.

What happened to him? Don't wanna know.

- Oh, this guy. - You've reached Riddler's voicemail.

To leave a message, you must solve a series of intricate mind-bending...

Ugh, he better be in a movie.

Oh, right. He's dead too, delete.

Oh, hi, Harley.

- King, you busy? Great. - Well, actually...

Do you know a villain who loves hot models and slicing limbs?

I'm so sorry to cast such a wide net.

Oh, Harley! Oh, you know I'm squeamish.

I'm shocked you called me about this.

Well, no one else picked up.

Well, you're a good guy now, so your old friends aren't gonna help you.

Of course, we're still pals,

but I am changing your name to "Potential Spam" in my phone.

I... I don't wanna lose my standing in the villain community.

Ugh, those pussies.

What, good guys can't be amazing friends?

So, what you been up to?

Well, Tabitha and I are about to find out...

Yeah. Sorry, King. I gotta go.

Seven, eight, oh, that's number nine.

Nine healthy little sharks.

Oh, I'm gonna need to get a job.

Vegan D-nuts on me, boys.

Nonplussed reaction.

Ooh, maple leaf cinnamon.

Look, guys, I... I got a lot of appreciation for this team.

And, uh, I get it.

You know, you're at your job, and suddenly there's, like, this green lady,

like, all up in your business.

Totally hear that.

And I just want you guys to know that I love feedback.

So If you do have a crazy idea, shoot it over.

Ping it into my hear holes and my door is always open.

We knock down city hall and build a gladiator death ring.

Bitching, am I right?

Yeah, uh, totally bitching.

I create a force field, we fill it with hot babes.

- And the cool thing is, they have to go out with me. - Right.

Three words: cocaine, zoo, disaster.

- Okay. - Wait, wait.

I need three more words.

Electric, eels, high.

Ah, fuck.

Basically, we give a bunch of eels cocaine

- and watch them fuck up shit at the zoo. - Huh.

I need 'splosives, lots of 'splosives.

- I wanna blow up a... - This is great stuff. I love this.

Left the... The quantity empty,

so just to go nuts there.

Whoa, I feel seen, ah.

As I step away for some highly cool and important training,

the people of Gotham need not worry.

You are in capable hands. The Bat-Fam's

got your back, fam.

And that was supposed to be a reassuring message from Batman.

But with the recent uptick in mutilation murders,

Gotham's left wondering,

will we pay the price for the Bat Family's failures?

And will that price be an arm or a leg?

So, where were you last night?

I told the story a million times.

I was out to dinner at this new restaurant

you'll never get into, Bucket and Maup.

Oh, my God. No, wait.

That's where Martian Manhunter and Grimes just got in a huge fight.

Mar-Man told Grimes that he could never love her.

And she threw a bananas foster on his lap, lighting his penis on fire.

I was sitting in the next booth.

Aw, jealous.

Don't be. My own husband stood me up.

The only way to get him out of the house these days is a celebrity golf tournament.

Whatever. Fuck him.

I was so bored that I live streamed the whole thing.

That's it.

The other victims were live streaming, too.

That's how the killer figures out where they are.

Hey, uh,

do you think they'll find my clavicle in time for the Hottest Hotties gala?

My dress is made from ten live puppies,

and every day I don't wear it, they get less cute.

"Miss Macklewaithe has the most beautiful clavicle in Gotham."

Thank you so much.

What's wrong with your voice?

It's Professor Pyg!

He's picking off our city's Hottest Hotties.

- Wait, what? - I saw him at the newsstand.

And he was drooling all over Devorah's clavicle.

It has got to be him.

God, I am so good at my new job.

All the clues are just drawn to me.

Great work, Harley.

Now we need to catch him.

I have an idea, and someone's gonna hate it.

There's my girl.

A clerk who knows how to work. What's up, baby face?

Oh, wow, Ivy.

The guys in shipping are gonna be pissed

they missed you.

You're the talk of the basement.

Love to hear it.

I need, uh, uh, 20 goons, dental clamps and funnels.

Enough to channel about, like, 84 million gallons of oil into the mouths of men.

Ooh, pretty sure those 84 million gallons of oil

are floating in the sea as of about 20 minutes ago.

What? What do you... That's impossible.

Oh, you didn't hear?

Bane blew up an oil rig.

It's so funny.

I love Bane.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

The fuck? I'm such a chump.

'Sup, boss.

Hey, what are you doing?

You're in the executive women's restroom.

Never been a lady executive.

So the boys deem this one dumpers only.

Ivy, what are you doing in the executive women's restroom?

I'm the executive woman here.

Look at you! Whoo!

Isn't this bathroom the tits?

I come here when I pick up my widow's benefits checks from HR.

- How are you? - You know, just reaching a career low,

enabling overgrown goon babies to destroy the world.

You know, it's customary to just say, "I'm good."

Oh, you get to say a long thing and I don't?

Hey, I don't make the rules.

Hey, not to pile on here, but that stall's out of shit tickets.

Hey, Snowflake.

Never interrupt two women talking in the restroom.

It's not Snowflake.

- I am not Snowflake. Hey, stop. - Bup-bup-bup-bup-bup!

- Your fly's open. - Bitch.

- Dickless prick. - Ugh.

Hey, Executive Woman, cut the wallowing.

Who cares if you're a cool boss?

You're not cool, but you're Poison Ivy.

Oh, okay. Thanks. I guess... I mean...

Remember, you brought a beautiful frozen woman back to life

with your weird science powers.

You can do whatever you want with the Legion of Doom.

There is a place for everyone else's opinions.

And it's in that tiny, waxy paper bag

that's inside that little metal mailbox

in that stall with my dirty tampons.

You know what, you're right.

Everyone can get on board or they can fuck off to that tiny tampon mailbox.

There we go.

Yeah, yeah. And you're not supposed to be in here either.

- Love that. - God, you're a bulldozer, you know that?

Do you want to be my assistant?

Hmm, not really.

Well, then, I'm gonna have to change the locks on this bathroom.

I'll do it.

I am Umberto Argento,

the famous Italian photographer without an accent.

Where is the subject of my art?

Ugh, again. Why do I have to do this?

Oh, we're live streaming this Gotham Monthly photo shoot to lure Pyg here.

I understand the plan.

Why do we have to actually take the photos?

If Pyg shows up and we're just holding each other's fucking nutsacks,

he'll know it's a trap.

Now, let's get that ass to clap, baby.

Hey, I finally did it.

I gave Gotham Magazine the exclusive on my, ugh, juicy caboosey.

Oh, yeah.

You're three spritzes deep and it's sunset on the Rialto,

when your love calls your name.

Turn around and smolder.

I said smolder! Gorgeous.

Okay, now you've lost your job with the olive oil factory,

and mama tries to comfort you,

pulling you into her ample bosom.

Okay, now serve me young coed

studying in Naples for the summer. Yes!

All right, where's the dead body?

Oh, come on.

Were the lights supposed to go out?

Feels like someone's about to make their big entrance, huh?

I'll find the generator.

Almost got it. There.

- Professor Pyg? - Nightwing?

Not cool, dude.

Okay. Everyone's plans, schemes, plots, on the table.

I already rented a wood chipper.

Uh-uh-uh.

No more blowing up shit and pathetic cash grabs

and problematic ways to date hot babes.

So played out, done.

Basic as AF. Mm-mm-mm.

And from now on,

everyone's working together on my stuff.

Socially conscious evil.

Anything that isn't a part of that is not gonna happen.

Okay? All my shit, all day long.

We're not gonna let this bullshit happen!

This is racist against men.

What's with the raggedy-ass Andy's?

They're Dollotrons. Poor, lost souls brainwashed to do Pyg's bidding.

I wish we could help... Ugh!

Gross, don't touch me.

Get him!

She's not the boss of me.

Ooh, watch out.

Yeah, rip his fucking arm off, Ivy!

Do you think I'm scared of you?

You go, boss!

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, yes!

This is all my fault.

I have to save Nightwing.

Oh, no. My system seems to be malfunctioning.

Zeep, zap, spark, spark.

I don't think so, you tin cunt.

Wow. Ow.

Ow, ow, ow.

Ahhh!

You'll never beat me.

Oh, God, the vegan doughnuts.

Sorry, my landlord called.

He's finally going to put in a carbon monoxide detector.

Whoa, what happened here?

Hey, Bane. Your next big evil plot

is to clean up a shitload of oil from Gotham Harbor.

But I just 'sploded that oil!

I'll get a bucket.

What's the perfect human without a perfect bootay?

My creation is mere moments from being realized.

Holy shit! A hot Dollotron?

Harley! Yes!

I love my ass. Okay, I admit it. Now, help me.

I knew you cared.

Drop the scalpel, Pyg!

My coworker's wild, perfect-party ass

does not belong on a flesh doll.

It, honestly, it belongs in a museum.

Too late. This rump is a singular beauty,

- and it's time to cut the cake. - No, no.

Got you!

Ah.

It's gonna take a lot more than some...

Well, looks like I saved your ass.

- What... You killed him? - Oh, my God, is he dead?

Cool.

Ivy has pledged to take the Legion in a green-conscious direction,

which sent LexCorp stocks soaring.

The same can't be said for Wayne Enterprises,

whose stocks are in a free fall after the news.

We've hit the trigger.

Fuel up the jet.

I'm going to Gotham.