All language subtitles for The.Avengers.S05E06.The.Winged.Avenger

It's going to
be difficult, father.

All business is difficult.

A decision like
this takes strength.

And strength is
power, remember that.

Yes, father.

He expects us to confirm
his appointment to the board.

Instead of which,
we're going to dismiss him.

After a blow like this, he's going
to be against us, you can depend on it.

The only answer is to
dispense with his services forthwith.

Well, how are
you going to tell him?

The truth, my son.

The plain unvarnished facts,
that's what you're going to tell him.

Me.

Sit down.

Now keep it short,
sharp and to the point.

Don't give him a chance
to argue or talk back to you.

These things are best done
quickly so hit him, and hit him hard.

Come in.

Oh, thank you, sir.

My son is speaking
for us both on this occasion.

Oh, I see, youth at the
helm all that sort of thing, eh?

Don't sit down.
- What?

You won't be
staying here long.

I intend being short,
sharp and to the point.

It has been decided that we
will not appoint you to the board.

Not?

Under the circumstances
we feel that it would be unfair for us.

Unfair for you to remain
with the company hereafter.

Goodbye.

And good luck.

Just like that, eh?
You mean you...

I really don't think there's
any point discussing it further.

I'm proud of you, Peter.

Admirably handled.
- I still have a lot to learn, Father.

You will,
my boy, you will.

Now you run
along and enjoy yourself.

All right, Father.

Yeah.

We're needed.

A sheer drop.

Absolutely.

And no way
down from above.

None.

Well, whatever it was,
it must have flown in.

Could be.

The door was locked,
securely locked.

I opened it
and found him.

His clothes
were torn to pieces.

And the marks on him...

He'd been
clawed to death.

As though
by some bird.

Some huge, obscene bird.

An albatross.

It's got a
twelve foot wingspan.

It's big,
but not vicious.

It's supposed
to be a sailor's friend.

It's got to
be a bird of prey.

Bird of prey.

Cormorants, no,
darters, boobies and gannets.

Herons and their allies,
old world vultures, hawks, eagles, kites...

Harriers, look at:
the golden eagle.

It's been known to attack
man, but only in isolated cases.

Yes, but this
isn't an isolated case.

Simon Roberts
wasn't the first?

There have been four
deaths lately, in high places.

It's very strange you know, the way successful
businessmen always live at the top of buildings.

And they're
all businessmen.

And all, apparently,
killed by a bird.

A high flying eagle?

Well, if it's on the wing
now, we can expect it any day.

Dear sirs, with regard
to your outstanding account.

You asked for three weeks
grace in order to find the money.

Under no
circumstances can we allow this...

Correction:

Under no
circumstances can I allow this.

And we will proceed with
legal action against you immediately.

There seems to be some controversy about
our owning all rights to the book in question.

I can state quite categorically
that even if we have to go to court,

we shall fight
to retain our rights.

We will fight the
author, Sir Lexius Cray, and...

The door was securely locked,
the burglar alarm was working,

Exactly the same
pattern as before.

Straight through the window.

Opening it this time.

If it was a bird,
it showed a lot of discretion.

Maybe it was well trained.

"We shall fight
to retain our rights."

"We will fight the
author, Sir Lexius Cray, and..."

Well, if the killer didn't fly through the
window, maybe he climbed up the wall.

Sir Lexius Cray...

The mountaineer.

Take in the slack.

Now, give me your hand.

Comfy?

Yes, thank you.

Is this the sort
of thing you want?

The experience, yes.

There's nothing like authenticity.

That's the way
my readers see it.

The third ledge of Binaiya.

Always gave me trouble.

Fancy a cup
of tea, Mrs. Peel?

Lovely.

Thank you.

Not at all.

Get us a cup of
tea, will you, Tay Ling?

Grand chap, that.

Better than all your dogs.

The only snag is: that if the worse
comes to worst, you can always eat a dog.

Wouldn't feel right,
tucking into old Tay Ling.

Tea on the
terrace then, dear lady?

Fine.

See you downstairs, then.

Cheerio!

The main thing is confidence.

Confidence in your partner.

As in all things.

Quite so,
young lady, quite so.

My magazine has
had rather a setback.

The owner and his son
died suddenly, in quick succession.

I believe you know them:
Simon Roberts and Son.

Roberts and son, both?

Both.
You did know them?

Oh, I knew them all
right, a couple of blackguards.

Shouldn't speak ill
of the dead and all that,

but if you want my
reaction, it's good riddance.

Neither of them had a heart.

Then there was that
business over my book.

What business?

They published my memoirs
recently, and then tried to do me down.

Tried to do me
out of the profits, me!

Must have been very galling.

There were times when
I could have taken them both by...

But then that's over now.
They're dead and that's the end of it.

Well, you've been most helpful,
Sir Lexius, and thank you for my delicious tea.

My pleasure, dear lady.

Let me have a sight
of your scribble, will you?

I will. Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

A charming young lady, Tay Ling.

Most charming, sir.

A little inquisitive,
but nothing we can't handle.

As you say. sir.

Good evening,
my name is Tay Ling.

No, you do not know me.

But I know you.

I have been reading
about your notorious exploits.

Exploits.

Also, I know how you
have done such strange things.

I know, because of a
letter sent to my employer.

By a man named Poole.

I see I have
captured your attention.

Oh yes,
I have the letter here.

Beneath my hand.

Shall I then
commence to talk business?

Naturally we can meet.

Shall we say,
around midnight?

The scientific approach.

The Roberts building.

The ground below, height,
wind velocity, temperature.

I have all the
facts at my fingertips.

Good, and what do
you intend doing with them?

Assessing them,
and evaluating them.

Someone, or something, got from
here to there without being detected.

Now, there must be an
explanation, and I intend finding it.

With a shoebox?

They laughed at Edison.

Only when he was serious.

Well, while you pursue theory,
I'll try a more practical approach.

A midnight visit
to Sir Lexius Cray.

Stay right where you are.

Tay Ling.

But what?
- That's what I came to find out.

It looks as though
he's been attacked by a bird.

A bird of prey.

Surely you don't think that...

We climbed to the
top of the world together.

An experience like that
creates a bond that's hard to break.

Even in death.

You came through that
door right on cue, Sir Lexius.

I heard a sound,
the sound of a bird.

So I got Freddy here, and
we started searching the grounds.

Then I heard the scream.

Well, whatever was in
here made a mess of your desk.

Is anything missing?

Nothing as far as I can see.

What about this?

What was in here?

Oh, letters, just letters.

From a person named Poole.

Yes, Professor Poole.
- Concerning?

Well, he was an inventor chap who
wanted me to endorse one of his ideas.

What kind of idea?

Boots.

Boots?

Oh, no ordinary
boots by all accounts.

According to the professor, when you put
them on, you could walk up the side of a house.

Boots?

Boots.

For climbing up walls.

Boots.

Does it ruin your theory?

I have two
possible alternatives.

The murderer inflates a small
balloon, he rises up the nearest building,

he fires a rocket line across to
the penthouse, he drops a trampoline,

he bounces on it, in through
the window, possibility number one.

And possibility number two?

He bribes the doorman.

Boots, boots...

Special boots, just the
thing for climbing mountains.

You don't have
to be roped together.

Ah, that takes all
the romance out of it.

Well, think of the
Matterhorn during the tourist season.

The upper slopes of that mountain
packed with sightseers, all out for a vertical stroll.

Vertical souvenir stores?

Vertical salesmen.
- Selling vertical souvenirs.

The last bastions of
peace and solitude are threatened.

And that's not the only threat.

If these boots
do what's claimed.

We know how he
gets to the window, but...

but we've got to find out
who goes through the window.

What's Professor Poole's address?

Professor Poole,
my name is Steed, this is Mrs. Peel.

Professor.

Peel. Hm...

Pee-hool...

Peea-pool...
the Indonesian marsh rambler!

Peea-pool!

You know the
Indonesian marsh rambler?

Not over well.

Delightful creature,
delightful creature.

What do you want?

We're very
interested in your work.

We wanted to
ask you a few questions.

Questions? Me?
No time, no time.

Professor?

Good morning.

Good morning.

It's a very nice morning.
Splendid flying weather.

I thought you were gone.

Ah now, Professor if you remember,
you promised to show us your latest invention.

Nonsense.
Consider the ostrich.

What have we
done with the ostrich?

True.

But could you possibly...

To watch a man walking
is to see a clumsy machine.

To watch a bird fly
is to witness a vision.

Ah, but even a bird has to
come down to earth sometime.

A mere detail.

My work is to free
man from his shackles.

And if not on the wing,
why not in boots?

Precisely.

Boots?
I've work to do.

Mrs. Peel spoke
to Sir Lexius Cray.

He told me about
the boots you'd offered him.

Put them on, and you can
walk up the side of a house.

I know nothing
at all about this.

Oh, come now,
professor, you...

Why do you persist in bothering me?
Why can't you leave me alone?

Wasn't the dodo
warning enough?

Dodo?

Wouldn't leave that alone.
Now, it's extinct.

Gone.

As so am I.

Poole was lying.

To be strictly accurate,
he was hanging.

Upside down.

Well, he merits another visit.

Later, after dark.

Meanwhile,
back at the apartment?

There's one aspect of
these murders we've overlooked.

The victims.

They were all businessmen.

All ruthless businessmen.

The kind that treat their staff badly,
grind their competitors under heel.

Sort of "Dumayn" types.

Eh?

Edward J. Dumayn.

He's the current cause
celebre of the business world,

in all the
newspapers today.

"Dumayn automates his factories.
Thousands will be made redundant.

That is just the sort.

Now, there's a
potential victim if ever I saw one.

Fothers!

Fothers!

Yes, sir, Mr. Dumayn, sir?

A pigeon, Fothers.
That was a darn pigeon!

Yes, sir.

I pay you to
stock this land with game.

Pheasant, partridge, real game.

Yes, sir.

Then produce some, man.
Get beating and produce some.

Yes, sir.

Right away, sir.

Flush me out something
worth shooting at this time.

Flush me out something big!

The pattern as before.

And the bird has flown.

What's that?

Items found at
the scene of the crime.

Your items don't
look very interesting.

It's a load of rubbish.

You know, I'm beginning to
have doubts about this bird theory.

The killer's too...
- Selective?

Well, he seems to know, yes.

He seems to know where,
and who to strike.

A sort of judge, jury and
executioner all rolled into one.

A sort of winged avenger.
- Eh?

The Winged Avenger strikes again.

He fights a lone
fight against evil.

Have a look.

Hold it!

Julian.
- Yes, Arnie.

Julian, you're
swooping in on this beautiful girl,

carrying her off to your nest,
and what do you say?

Oh, I say, "Ahhhh."

You say "ah".
Well, for heaven's sake, feel it!

Ahh...
oh, I can't somehow.

Stanton,
he can't say your lines.

Try that.

Eee-urp?

Eee-urp!

Oh, that's much better,
Mr. Stanton, much better.

You see, no trouble.

Pity you didn't write it
that way in the first place.

It didn't seem
to fit with your drawing.

What's the matter
with my drawing?

It doesn't measure
up to my writing.

Measure up? I should say
it was the other way around.

You'd say!

My stories are the
key to this cartoon strip.

Your stories are dull.

Dull?
- Dull.

My visions bring
some fire into them.

And where would
you be without plot, eh?

Where would
you be without me?

I breathe life
into The Winged Avenger.

I make him a reality.

Steed, John Steed.

What do you want?

Back numbers of
The Winged Avenger.

I have a young nephew,
I said I'd drop in.

Oh, Gerda, would you look
after Mr. Steed, and show him the files?

My pleasure.
- And mine, too.

I must apologise for my
partner's bad manners, Mr. Steed.

He's been overworking,
losing his grip.

Losing my grip?

I'm sick of
your insinuations!

And I'm sick of you.

Eee-urp!

Eee-urp!

There he stood, large as life,
flapping his wings,and making noises.

Noises?
- Eee-urp! Eee-urp!

Probably the bird equivalent of
"goodbye, nice to have met you".

Well, I'm off to make a
return visit to Professor Poole's.

Eee-urp?
- Eee-urp?

My dear Professor,
what are you up to?

Apart from the ceiling?

You have no right,
coming in here.

May we talk?

Go away.
- I wouldn't dream of it.

Now, shall I come up there,
or will you come down here?

All right, all right.

You've been
practising with your boots.

Of course.

But the last time we
were here, you denied having any.

I don't want
everybody to know.

What about the
blood rushing to the head?

Practise,
on the parallel bars.

Ahh.

So, the secret's
in the little black box.

Magnetic fields, you know.

If you didn't want anyone to know,
why write to Sir Lexius Cray?

That was before
I got a better offer.

Do I assume then, that before long
everybody will be walking on ceilings?

It'll ruin the carpet trade.

No, no, no, I sold the exclusive
rights to the only other pair in existence.

So somebody
else has a pair.

Our agreement was the boots be kept
secret, until they have been protected.

As a matter of fact...
- Yes?

He doesn't even
know I have a pair myself.

Naughty.
- You won't say anything, will you?

Not a syllable.

That is, if you'll tell me
who has the other pair of boots.

I don't know the man.

The business was
conducted through a third party.

I did, however, make a note
of the company he represented.

Uh...
Winged Avenger Enterprises.

Okay, fine, that's it.

Packer!

Packer!

How about the way
our latest story's going.

As far as I'm
concerned, it's going fine.

As far as you're concerned!

The Winged Avenger
should be omnipotent.

A law unto himself.

He seeks out evil.

He seeks out
men without humanity.

Wicked men who
don't deserve to live.

He seeks them out,
and he swoops down on them.

And then, and then...

You're taking my creation
an entirely different way.

A wrong way!

That's a matter of opinion.

Is it?

Is it!

How do you do?

I'm Mrs. Peel.

Mrs. Emma Peel.

You did receive a letter
from our London office.

Not a word.

Ah.
Now that was very remiss of them.

I understood
they would write.

And what did you
understand they would say?

Well...
- Goodbye, see you tomorrow.

Uh, Julian.
- Eh?

Sorry, I forgot.

Sometimes it
seems like a part of me.

What is it you
wanted, Mrs. Peel?

I represent a company
dealing in novelty items,

and we've come up
with a very interesting gadget

that might tie in
nicely with your cartoon strip.

Gadget?

Well, it's not a gadget,
really: a pair of boots.

With these boots you
could walk up the side of a house.

Up the side of a house?

And across
the ceiling too, eh?

Struck a nerve when
you mentioned the boots, eh?

Well, Packer laughed his head off,
and Stanton looked a bit piqued.

Could be one
or t'other, or both.

I don't think so.
The Winged Avenger definitely works alone.

But that's a
cartoon, a fiction.

After the fact.

Don't forget Dumayn.
- Hm...

Who else
was at the studio?

Well, a number of girls
in various stages of exposure.

Ah, yes.

And Mr. Eee-urp.
- Julian.

I must say the Winged Avenger
outfit fits him very well.

We mustn't overlook Julian.

What do you think?

I think you should take
another look around the studio.

Exactly. I've worked
out a way for you to get in.

Ohhh, no.
It's your turn.

I'm going home to
relax and put my feet up.

Eee-urp!

Hello?

Mrs. Peel?

Poole here.
Professor Poole.

Yes, Professor, what is it?

It is imperative
I see you tonight.

Now, at once, right away.

You mean immediately?

All right,
I'll come right now.

Thank you.

Thank you.
And please, tell no one.

What the devil
do you think you're doing?

Since you ask,
disarming you.

Julian!
- Yes, Julian.

And the professor.

Professor?
What professor?

Poole.
- I've never heard of him.

What's this?

Arnie must be
working on his own now.

And writing
his own stuff, too.

Look at this.

Elma Peem?

I never heard a
character of that name.

It's an anagram
for Emma Peel.

Let's have a look at these.

What's it all mean?

Professor Poole?

Professor Poole?

Come on.

It all ties in.

For the past six months
Arnie's completely taken over.

Everything I do is wrong.
Everything has to be his way.

He's mad.

He's power mad!

How are we doing?

Not too good.

The odds are a
little more equal now.

It won't do you
any good, Mrs. Peel.

I am the
eradicator of all evils.

I deal out justice and vengeance
to those whom the law cannot touch.

And to those who stand
between me and my purpose.

I am the
Winged Avenger, Mrs. Peel.

Just a myth.

A cardboard character.

Cardboard, Mrs. Peel?

Cardboard?

Creator and creation
fused into one being.

Indivisible, omnipotent, unstoppable.

Nothing,
nothing stands in my way.

Least of all you, Mrs. Peel.

Least of all, you!

Packer's really
got his wings clipped.

Oh, thank you.

Hey!

I'm coming down.

Eee-urp!

Well, it's nice to be
the right way up for a change.

At least you
know where you stand.

Ah, champagne.

Now, with that we have
a dozen Whitstable oysters.

La tortue clair aux serai.

Turtle soup to you.

I know.

La sermon les cas pel vous,
with a 1959 Chablis.

What did you say?

It just went with a wallop.

Marvellous un supreme a volet a la kiev
with a Chateau Mouton Rothchild.

Ah, Deuxi�me Cru.

Twenty-eight?

A little younger?

Twenty-nine.

Crepe surprise, peeled walnuts
and a tory or crusty port.

It all sounds marvellous.

Where do you get it
at this time of night?

I've drawn it for you.

Ah...

Will you serve,
or shall I?

I will.

Hey.

The benevolent
avenger strikes again.

subtitles by rick@peoplesguidetothecosmos.com