All language subtitles for Batman s02e04 The Worry Men.eng

Hello, Gotham, I'm home!

- Hello, Ronnie!
- Ronnie!

Veronica, darling,
you look smashing.

How did you like the rain forest?

The food was appalling,
the accommodations were nonexistent

and the bugs were the size
of my trust fund.

But seriously,
it's important we all do our part

to preserve those precious resources.

Hear, hear.

Look at them,
celebrating without a care in the world.

I think it's great
that Veronica's finally

doing something worthwhile
with her money.

I'm sorry, Bruce.

The securities business has been
kind of rough lately.

Lot of late hours, you know.

Seems all I do is worry about how to get
my company through one more day.

Worries, Hayden?
I have the cure for that.

I'm a little old for dolls,
don't you think?

Not these dolls.

They're Worry Men from Central America.

Legends say you tell them your problems,

then put them under
your pillow at night.

They'll do your worrying for you
while you sleep.

And when you wake up,
poof, your problems are gone.

Oh, come on, Ronnie.

You're the last one I'd think would
fall for some ancient tribal hoodoo.

Don't be so smug, Brucie.

When I was in the jungle,
I saw some things you'd never believe.

And I tell you, I haven't had
a bad night's sleep since my trip.

Well, sounds great to me.

In fact, the little darlings work
their magic for me all daylong.

See, aren't they precious?

- I just couldn't get along without them.
- Thanks for everything, Ron.

But I've got a few more rounds to make.

If ever someone led a worry-free life,
it's you, Bruce Wayne.

I've got one for everybody.

Party crasher.

Nasty toy.

Ready to call it a night?

Oh, my heavens!

Tell me, Alfred.

What's an ancient Mayan witch doctor
doing on a Gotham skyscraper?

This isn't one
of those Riddler questions, is it?

No, but it's just as confusing.

There's someone new in town using
Mayan tribal gimmicks in his crimes.

- Blowguns, stone weapons.
- Voodoo dolls?

That's some party favor
from Veronica's party.

They're supposed to take away
your worries while you sleep.

Imagine that.

What some overworked souls
won't do to get a good night's rest.

Hmm.

Still, every little bit helps.

I tell you, child, I handle
all sorts of things for Mr. Wayne,

but this one really takes the cake.

- Oh, Morning, Dana.
- Oh, I gotta go. Bye-bye.

Sometimes I forget how beautiful
Gotham can be.

You're in fine spirits, I must say.

A good night's sleep
and I'm ready to take on the world.

You got everything all right?

Yes, I followed your message
to the letter.

- But I can't help wondering what-
- Thank you.

I know it's your company, Mr. Wayne,
but $20 million, man.

- That's a lot of money.
- Yes, it is. What's your point?

Well, I'd sure feel uncomfortable
walking around with all that cash

in a tiny little briefcase.

Dana, I'm sorry. I'm not following this.
What cash? What briefcase?

The $20 million you told me
to put in a briefcase for you.

You're not making any sense.

The $20 million I told you
to put in a briefcase?

You called me from your car,
gave me your account number,

told me to transfer $20 million
in cash and...

Hey!

$20 million of my money in that case?

I hope you're not going to take it
out of my salary.

Tens of millions of dollars are missing

since this morning, Mr. Sloane.

If it wasn't you, then who?

But I don't know, I tell you.
I don't know. Why would I do it? Why?

That was the scene today
as broker Hayden Sloane was arrested

on charges of embezzlement.

Sloane joins the growing list of wealthy
Gothamites who, for reasons unknown,

have pilfered their own companies
for a combined total of $100 million.

Unbelievable.

And you have no clue
how this could have happened?

I do now. Each of us was a guest
at Veronica Vreeland's party.

If there are answers, she's got them.

Miss Vreeland.

Huh?

Batman?

Let me help you with your bag.

No, you stay back.

This is mine, you hear? Mine.

I know it's yours.
What were you planning to do with it?

I have to throw it overboard because...

Because...

Excuse me, I don't feel very well.

Care to explain these?

My jewels! How did they get here?

- Don't you remember?
- No, everything's a blank. I...

Leave him alone, you swine!

Please?

My therapist is never
going to believe this.

And I thought you were supposed
to take away my worries.

Hmm.

Well, say goodbye,
you troublesome little trinkets.

Wait. These dolls.
Where did you get them?

From a craftsman at a small village.
A funny little man in a giant straw hat.

An Englishman?

Why, yes.

And he suggested giving the dolls
to your society friends.

What, are you psychic, too?

Just picking up on the pattern.

Sir, you have no idea how terrible
I feel to have played a part in this.

Neither you nor Veronica could have
known that hidden within each doll

was a tiny microchip designed
to stimulate a sleeper's brainwaves

and make them susceptible
to hypnotic suggestion.

Creating a radio receiver of sorts
out of an entranced human mind?

Exactly.

And who knows
how to warp the human mind better

than Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter?

'"0 frabjous day, callooh,
callay,' he chortled in his joy."

It's sheer brilliance.

A wonderland of treasures

all willingly donated
by Gotham's simpering elite.

Ah.

And now come the famous Vreeland jewels
to dance at my heels.

What? How dare you return empty-handed?

Forgive us, sir.
But Batman showed up, and-

Batman?

You insufferable fools.

You can't even handle one man
dressed up like a flying mouse?

Oh, and what's this? What's this?

You've graciously left
part of your cloak behind

as Batman's invitation
to waltz right into our midst.

And that's just what he'll do, won't he?

Of course he will.

And far be it for me to disappoint him
when he arrives.

As you predicted, sir,
the computer has identified

this scrap of artificial fur as a type
used in theatrical productions,

which would make
its most probable source of origin-

The Great Eastern Costume Company.

It's been closed for years,

making it a perfect hideout
for the Mad Hatter.

I knew you were coming,
so I thought

I'd have some of the old chaps 'round
to make you feel at home.

- How is Batman like a donut shop?

- They're both filled with holes.

Whoops.

Should have warned you, old boy.

That lot's real.

Delightful. Oh, quite a bonus to add
to my already-substantial collection.

You disappoint me, Tetch.

For all your brilliance,
you've become just another thief.

You make it sound so common.

Well, actually, Batman,

you'll be happy to know you're
witnessing my retirement from crime.

See, after my recent release
from Arkham,

I vowed to leave Gotham
and my wicked ways behind me.

Perhaps buy a little island somewhere
and open a sunbonnet shop.

But islands, even little ones,
cost money.

Lots of money.

And then I heard of Ms. Vreeland's

well-publicized trek
into the rain forest.

Yes, I realized at once she'd be the
perfect unwitting partner in my scheme.

Investing what limited funds I had,

I managed to follow dear Ronnie
into the forest

where, at a small native village,
she made the acquaintance

of my specially-created Worry Men.

Though, I can't take complete credit.

I provided
the microcircuitry, of course,

but my good friend here
supplied the dolls.

Can you believe it?

He was just an honest native craftsman

until I changed his mind
about helping me.

Those others are riffraff culled out of
various Gotham street gangs.

Gutter trash of no great importance.

So, as this is my farewell to crime,

I think I'll take a souvenir
to mark the occasion.

No matter. I have a better way
to remove that nasty old cowl.

Stop! You don't know what you're doing.

Oh, that noise!

What's going on?

How did I get here?

Oh, you're a clever one.

But I will not be denied.
As the great Lewis Carroll said,

"One, two, one, two,

"and through and through,
the vorpal blade went snicker-snack.

"He left it dead, and with its head,
he went galumphing back."

Stop! I command you.

So, we're gutter trash, are we?

Who's calling the shots now?

- Stop!
- Yes. Stop.

Leave him to the police.

Thank you. Thank you, you generous,
forgiving, noble fool.

Stand back, all of you.

I'm getting out. But not before
I sew up one last loose end.

What?

Tomorrow this all goes
back to the company.

Minus the cost of a plane ticket home
for our kidnapped doll maker.

I must say, after all the Hatter
put him through,

that fellow showed remarkable restraint.

When everything was said and done,

all the shaman really wanted
was to go home.

In fact, I hear he even sent the Hatter
a farewell gift.

Something to ensure
that Jervis Tetch

only dreams of a good,
honest life from now on.

English - SDH

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