Original subtitles

Let me go! You have no jurisdiction over me!

I'm a Canadian citizen! Yeah, and we're taking you to Canada, so...

Help! Help! Extraordinary rendition! Extraordinary rendition!

Ah. Light him up, newbie.

Sorry in advance. Heh-heh. Ow!

That hurts, like, insanely bad. That's why I said sorry in advance.

And you have to stop yelling "extraordinary rendition."

A, nobody cares. And B...

Be careful! You big lummox!

I swear to God, if you scuff my bags...

Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am. And I can do without the sarcasm.

Oh, no, ma'am, that wasn't... Enough with the backchat!

Oh, Lana, maybe you can talk to him. Um...

So this is the infamous Kenny Bilcoe? You don't look like much of a terrorist.

That's because I'm a freedom fighter for a free and sovereign Nova Scotia.

Is that why you blew up a doughnut shop? Allegedly.

If you believe Canada's illegitimate, so-called government.

I'm pretty sure we do.

Which is why we're taking you back to Ottawa.

And once we do, hopefully the Mounties will start sending us all kinds of lucrative work.

How noble.

Speaking of work, can I put what I assume is your rock collection on the train?

Yes... Nope.

- Nice try, Pam. - What?

You want to get on that train so you can stow away...

...just like on the blimp. The what?

Okay, no biggie. Have a nice trip.

Uh... Wait a minute. What now?

Too easy. Pam is up to something.

Board.

Well, I doubt she'll make it on now. Heh. Ditto for Archer.

He's not here?

Hmm...

Nope. Need to get these bags on, ma'am.

I heard him, George. What? Malory, don't call him that.

My name actually is George.

Really?

Damn it, I told Sterling 6:00.

I thought you meant 6 a.m.

No, 6... Sterling, are you drunk? Winner!

Nice. Archer.

You knew we were transporting a dangerous terrorist to Canada.

So how and why are you drunk at 6:00?

Well, the "how" is pretty self-explanatory, and the "why" is because...

...I thought we were leaving at 6 a.m. Tomorrow.

Ergo, Latin, plenty of time to sleep it off. Ugh.

Drink some coffee, because there's a chance Bilcoe's terrorist pals...

Alleged terrorist pals.

- Are going to attack the train and try to bust him loose.

Awesome. Right?

I'm sorry, but how is that awesome?

Because, pretty much my whole life...

...I've wanted to fight guys on the roof of a speeding train.

Well, if I know my boys, you may just get your wish, big guy.

Ooh, thanks, Freddy Foreshadowing.

Who is this?

Ugh. Come on, Archer.

Please tell me he's a renowned chicken-and-waffle chef...

...because I am starving.

So, listen, you look like a pretty smart guy.

Well, thanks, I like to think so.

So why don't you do yourself a pretty-smart-guy favor and just let me go?

Um, because Ms. Archer would kill me?

What do you think will happen when my boys storm this train?

I'm not too worried about that.

You should be. My boys are badass.

Well, so am... Lana. And I'm learning. Oh, and don't forget about Archer.

The drunk guy? He may have seemed drunk, but he's...

Still drinking?

Relax, Lana, it's just a Bloody Mary.

And by the way, not a great one, Mr. Vodka And Ketchup.

Archer, at any time in the next 12 hours...

...this train could be attacked by radical Nova Scotian separatists.

Armed with what, pamphlets about Canada's responsible gun-control laws?

Ugh. New Scotland Front has guns and they're not afraid to use them, so...

So okay. God, I'll switch to coffee.

Hey, Heinz 56, can I get an Irish coffee? No.

Lana, I have to taper off.

Trust me, if these Nova Scojens are a real threat...

...you do not want me hungover.

Do you even still get hangovers?

Normally, no, but I drank about two gallons of mamajuana this afternoon.

I was, uh, playing dominoes with a Dominican bike gang.

Or was it mah-jongg? I don't remember.

Ridiculous.

This thing's a sardine can. How are people supposed to travel like this?

Most people bring less luggage.

Most people fly. So your days of sullen superiority are numbered.

I have no response to that.

They never do. Now let's go find a bigger compartment.

I'm afraid there aren't any. Nonsense.

I'm sure there's one here somewhere. Why are all these locked?

They're occupied. So if you don't mind...

What I mind is your familiar tone, young man.

What's through here? Those are private cars.

What do you mean "private"?

I mean they're not... Not for you to be knocking on.

Now I have to insist that you...

Get your panties untwisted. Damn.

I knew it.

I want this train stopped immediately and this stowaway forcibly disembarked.

Afraid I can't do that, ma'am.

You can and you will, or I'll have your job.

No, she won't, George.

Carol? What are you doing here?

Uh, trying to perform my ablutions?

But... This is Miss Tunt's private car.

How do you have a private train car?

Uh, because she owns the railroad?

Well, half. I knew you wouldn't let us go on this trip to Canada...

...so I had my cars hooked up. Cars? Plural?

Uh, this car, two sleeping cars, a private dining car...

...and, oh, one that's just a teeny, tiny, like, skating rink.

Uh, two sleeping cars?

- Do you think there might be room for...? - Nope.

It's already cramped back there, what with that piss-reeking ocelot.

Plus, George says you stiffed him. What?

No, I didn't. I gave him a tip. A stick of gum?

Well? Really?

Did you not have a button? Button it, missy.

Holy shit. "We don't know the meaning of 'private.'

Let's all pile in." Lana, check it out. Actual gas lamps.

Amazing, Archer, yes.

So you think we can go guard the prisoner now, or what?

Is that Babou?

- Or not, apparently. Okay. - Wow.

Lana! Cyril.

- Jesus. - Lana!

Cyril. Pam.

Lana! What?

He remembers me!

Cyril, why are you in here? I didn't know where you guys were.

It doesn't matter where we are, Newb Gingrich.

Then get out!

Where's the prisoner? In my compartment.

At least he was.

Although, he doesn't seem to be in here now. Heh-heh.

No kidding. Um...

- Nope. - Lana, Cyril. Oh, my God.

Too late, he's gone. Thanks to Cyril.

He's not gonna jump off a train going 80 miles an hour.

So, yeah, we'll sweep car by car, moving from front to back.

Good, you guys do that. I'll get a big raw steak from the kitchen.

Ah. Are you talking about the ocelot? Are you not?

I'm talking about the prisoner. Oh. Well, maybe they're together.

Although, I doubt it. Babou is kind of a loner...

...like Paul Newman in Hud...

...if Paul Newman had constantly sprayed piss all over, uh...

What was her, uh? Oh, man.

Uh... What was her name?

Patricia Neal.

Who I hate.

Sorry for the intrusion, folks.

There's nothing to worry about, just some standard, uh, train security.

Okay, that's all the regular cars.

Now we get to search all the sleeper cars, thanks to your incompetence.

Well, you left me unsupervised.

So this is my fault? Um, fifty-fifty.

Fifty-fifty you accidentally shoot somebody, Newb.

Come on. It'll take us all night to search this train.

Well, but with Archer helping... I wouldn't exactly call it "helping."

Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.

Kitty?

Ahem. Uh, excuse me, is there an ocelot in there?

Uh, no.

No, no, what are you doing? Besides making a mess all over my train.

I'm looking for a terrorist and an ocelot.

What? Not necessarily in that order.

Okay, that's it, we're stopping.

Frank, this is George. We've gotta... Give me that.

Keep the train at top speed so they can't get off.

So tell him to keep it floored. I will do no such thing.

All right, then, um, hold this. Why are you giving me a...? Oh, my.

Sorry, but I'm not letting a terrorist escape.

And obviously an ocelot wouldn't survive...

...in the frozen wasteland of upstate New York, so...

Sorry, Frank. Miss Tunt says she wants to beat the record run to Ottawa.

Oh, those crazy Tunts. Okay, hang on.

Jesus. Boys, hang on a sec.

Boys, make sure you bring the heavy stuff. These crazy ISIS bastards aren't playing.

They just killed a black guy.

I know, right? Welcome to America.

How is that racist?

Ah. Never mind. Look...

I treat all servants exactly the same, regardless of their race.

Hang on, I hear freedom ringing.

At worst, I'm an elitist, but not racist.

Whatever. Cyril and I searched the front half of the train but we didn't see Bilcoe, so...

I bet it's hard to see anything from that high horse.

So unless Archer found Bilcoe in the back half of the train...

Which, no, he didn't.

- Jeezy Petes. - Archer.

Is that blood? What?

Oh, yeah, but it's from a cow.

You shot a cow?

Bilcoe's not in the back half, so you must've missed him.

Which, no, we didn't. Which, yes, obviously, you did.

Or you did. Or you did.

There's no way he got off, we're going too fast.

Oh, my God, we totally are. Oh!

We might beat the record run.

You probably don't understand because you don't own a railroad...

...but it's a pretty huge deal.

To whom, railroad owners?

Yeah. We're a pretty competitive bunch.

No, Pam. No means no, now stop it.

What's the matter, you chicken?

No, I'm in a wheelchair. Ow!

Ow! Goddamn it, Pam, I don't wanna race.

Couple skate?

I can't believe you have a skating-rink car.

Yeah, apparently my great-grandpa was nuts for skating.

That and the Klan. I...

Let's try this again. Car by car, this time, back to front.

Good, because Miss Stingy here won't let me eat in her private dining car.

Oh, my God, we've been over that.

So when you pass the dining car, have a porter bring me a Cobb salad.

Before or after we locate the dangerous terrorist?

Before.

Sorry, folks, uh, go back to sleep.

Uh, yeah, just disregard the gun-toting spies and the blood smeared everywhere.

Oh, keep an eye out for paw prints. Where, in the blood?

Yeah. I assume at some point he'll come out to, like, lick it.

Oh, come on, we've only searched two cars, we've got a shitload to go.

Um, speaking of that, I need to, uh, make use of the facilities here.

Fine, but catch up, okay? And pay attention.

Yeah, they look just like prints from a house cat only bigger and awesomer.

Go.

Hey, welcome to the bathroom.

Well, thank you. What are you...?

I could tell you never played much hockey, huh?

Probably too busy running around shooting black guys.

What's the word, boys?

Fantastic. They'll never see that coming.

I'll see you at the border.

Archer, we don't have time for this. It'll take like two seconds. God.

Okay, so a Cobb salad and, um...

I am not taking that woman a salad, Cobb or otherwise.

Trust me, you don't want to see my mother with low blood sug...

Wait, why are we slowing down?

We're at the border. Of?

- Um, this new place called Canada. - So?

So Customs, Passport Control, Immigration?

You know, the border? Yeah, but, heh, with America.

They still guard the border. Lana, we're going into Canada.

Can you please explain to him...? Don't do that.

Okay, already knowing your answer, I'm going to ask, "Don't do what?"

Make this a weird racial thing.

I knew and yet I asked.

What? I don't wanna be ganged up on. George, back me up here.

I'm gonna back way up...

...and not be here when the Mounties catch you crazy people with all those guns.

Oh, shit. What? They're Canadian.

They don't even know what a gun... Oh, shit.

He said, realizing that...

The perfect disguise for terrorists who wanna board a train to bust loose another terrorist?

Oh, shit. The...

Royal Canadian Mounted Police, folks.

Have your passports and declarations forms out and ready.

Ready? Yeah.

But what if they're, like, actual real Mounties?

Not to belabor the point, but they'd still be Canadian.

I.e., I doubt we're in real danger.

Okay, here goes.

Freeze! Hands up. Get them up.

What is this?

I swear, if any of you Canadian fruitcakes move...

...I will shoot that hat right off your head.

That's not okay.

Get them up, Dudley Douche-Bags!

Maintain the right. Whoa. Dude, we're serious, we'll shoot...

Goddamn it, Archer. What, Lana?

You are so stupid, thinking terrorists would be disguised as...

Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Stand down, boys. We're Mounties.

Piss off. We're Mounties.

Great, good, we're all Mounties. So no need for a Mexican standoff, eh?

Oh, yeah, how's about you co-opt...

...some more American stuff there, eh, Canada?

Stuff like "Mexican standoff"?

Oh, look, the race card. What...?

Let's all just put down the guns, boys. Come on, we're not Americans.

Unvaccinated animal. Put him down, boys. No! Serpentine, Babou!

Jeez, he sprayed me. That reeks.

Did he get away? Yeah.

He ran out past us. Good. Then screw this.

Please tell me that's a smoke grenade. Okay.

It's not, though.

Whoo! Holy...

Shit snacks. What was that?

Probably my stomach growling. I am literally starving to death.

I don't care. We are gonna beat that record, so put this stupid train in train gear and jam it.

Ugh! I'm surrounded by mediocrity.

In what way?

In what possible way did that work?

Well, um, A, they're all incapacitated.

And B, I got to blow up a train.

Well, thanks, Gomez. Nice.

But that doesn't help us find Bilcoe. He's right there, stupid.

Jesus, boys, what happened?

I happened. Drop it, Bilcoe.

You drop it, you racist bastard.

Unh! Ow!

Wait, how am I a racist?

Really? Shut up and...

Come on and shut up.

Wait, we don't know which Mounties are the real ones. What do we do?

Archer. I'm kidding. Jesus, Lana.

Hey, good guys and bad guys.

All of you just got a pretty huge pass, so don't make me regret it later. Deal?

Come on. I'm taking that as a tacit agreement!

Cyril, what the hell are you doing? I'm being blind. Oh, my God, Lana, I'm blind.

Sweater. Huh?

- Oh. - When will you not suck at this?

When you don't suck at... Shut up.

Be careful with that thing. Oh, my God.

Shoot me. It's better than starving to death.

Everybody, shut up! And then somebody get over here to be my hostage.

Oh, for... Way to man up, Ray.

What...? I'm in a wheelchair.

Yeah, no offense, but we're gonna be running around and stuff?

Uh, no, you're not.

Uh, yeah, I am.

Everybody okay?

Yeah, I think so. Yeah.

Paralyzed, but other than that, fine, yeah.

Okay, then, Lana, you guard them...

Okay, what's the plan?

...and Cyril, you keep sliding down the learning curve like the Banana Splits.

What are you gonna do?

I am going to fulfill my lifelong dream.

Meeting Mr. Green Jeans?

- Snap out of it, boys. - Bilcoe!

I could really use some help on the roof.

Oh, my God, this is going be awe...

Shit!

Ow! The dust. It's like being shot in the eyes by a glitter gun.

There, that ought to do it. Okay, let's try that aga...

Aw, shit!

Retinas! Seared like tuna steaks.

All I want is to fight on the top of a train. Is that too much to ask?

The good news is now I'm furious.

So rethinking this, huh?

On top of the train, you're still, like, on the train, plus you got all... Oh, shit.

Plus you got all that.

Oh, shit.

Why...

...do people do this? You're still just on the train.

I know, right? Although, sometimes there's a helicopter.

Do you have a helicopter?

Hmm, nope, just a gun.

It's empty, dickhead.

Yeah, nice try, super-dickhead.

What the...? You fired eight rounds, ultra-dickhead.

Am I the only person who ever keeps track of that?

Ow!

Wow, and I thought I was mad before.

Why, did you see some black lady sitting in the front of a bus?

What is your deal with calling me a racist? Well, A, you're American.

That's... Oh, shit! ...racist.

Jingoist. Whatever.

And B, you murdered the porter.

No, I didn't. You shot him.

There was blood everywhere. That was from a steak, you idiot.

I was trying to catch an ocelot. In Canada?

And I'm the idiot? Hold it right there, boys.

Royal Canadian Mounted Police!

Damn it, which are the real ones?

That's for me to know and you to find out. I'm gonna find out in five...

Babou! Look, it's the piss cat.

He's corpuscular. Get him, boys. No!

Babou, serpentine!

Yeah, so...

So, yeah, put that in your little secret-agent notebook...

...along with "don't leave prisoners unsupervised."

There's absolutely no reason to ever get on top of a moving train.

Okay, wait, what if there's a helicopter?

Ooh, yeah, or a dragon. Ooh, yeah, or some sarcasm.

Ooh, yeah, or hang on. What? Aah!

Babou!

That's right, buddy, I got...

Aah, ow! Babou, no! Ow!

Babou, stop! Ow, ow! Ow!

Aw, come on, I wouldn't say it was a complete failure.

Oh, really? And what parts of this mission would you call a success?

Well, let's see.

Maybe the part where my non-record-breaking train is totally shit-housed.

Oh. Not as shit-housed as my spleen.

Ooh. Or maybe the part where the Mounties will never hire ISIS again.

What's it matter? We're all banned from Canada.

Au revoir, sweet man-whores of Montreal.

Ugh! Lana, you were saying?

Uh, well, we did help with a major arrest.

Kenny Bilcoe, you're under arrest...

...for violation of sections 1 through 9 of the Canadian Terrorism Act, buddy.

Sorry to cut into your doughnut supply, boys.

Long live free Nova Scotia!

Oh, wait, make that five.

Same goes for you bastards, plus impersonating an RCMP constable.

That's not fair. You're doing it. Yeah.

Good one. Take that. Heh.

Oh, wait, I guess make that six.

And besides attempted murder on a black guy...

...you're under arrest for violating the Exotic Fish and Wildlife Importation Act.

Yeah, whatever, Dudley Douche-Bag.

Plus, you already used that one. Hey, it was good enough to merit seconds.

You hear that? They called you "exotic."

Which is just people talk for awesome...

...which is what you are, which is why I was happy to save your life, buddy.

Oh, don't worry, probably just thousands of dollars in fines.

Maybe a little jail time. Hopefully, just probation.

Totally worth it.

No, Babou. That was all sarcasm.

Yes, all of it! You fox-eared asshole!