Original subtitles

[Malory] Item four.

Our contact in the Sudan called. He wants to know--

Why the hell you started without me?

Well, which part of "9:00 a.m. sharp" confused you?

-Most of it, obviously. -Yet...

...it was pretty clear to the rest of us.

Who clearly didn’t have the shitty morning I’ve had, Lana.

Without pata negra ham, it’s not really Eggs Woodhouse, now is it?

Well, sir, culatello ham is actually--

It’s a different pig from a different country,

raised on a different diet!

The takeaway here is, you’re fired.

[laughs] It’s a little thing called "being on time"-ing-ness.

Oh, and I thought it was called "who cares"-ness.

Things have changed.

Briefings start at 9:00 a.m.,

and I expect everyone front and center.

How? When I have to park, like, a gajillion miles away

because Cyril’s vasectomy on wheels

is in my God damn parking space?

It’s been mine for quite some time.

And you don’t need it anyway, dear,

-now that you can use the-- -A-da-da...

Handicap space. What?

[grunts]

Oh, and speaking of.

[car alarm blaring]

You trashed my car?

"Trashed" is a strong word, Cyril.

-Listen. -Accurate, but strong.

You’re gonna pay for that.

Uh, literally or figuratively?

Maybe we try both.

-Oh, like as in, over my dead... -[cane hums]

[emphatically] Not now.

...body, in case you were wondering where I was going--

Oh!

Oh, for the love of...

-Krieger? -[Krieger] If this is about

a package that just arrived, super don’t open it.

-What? -Nothing.

Thanks to you, Sterling just zapped himself to death

all over my carpet!

Uh, no.

I specifically designed it

so the voltage wouldn’t kill him.

Just maybe put him back in a coma?

So you can study his brain?

-[line clicks] -[dial tone]

[Archer] Are you kidding me?

We have our own jet now?

Well, the agency has become quite profitable

ever since your... accident.

Some might even say "because of."

Either way, you can thank me

by telling me where the drinks are.

It’s a dry plane.

Shut up, Cyril. That’s not a thing.

Uh, we have an unspoken policy

against the whole "shut up" thing.

Hmm, but no policy on coma-jacking parking spots?

Be that as it may...

Strong priorities.

Be that as it may,

we’ve instituted a strict "no drinking on duty" policy...

with certain limited exceptions.

Well, un-limit them, because I’m trying to prepare for a mission.

That involves us going to a secret island

to infiltrate an underground martial arts tournament,

hosted by black-market arms dealer, Win Li,

and smuggle him back to the US.

-In a fit of irony? -To stand trial.

So it’s important we take him alive. You got it?

Chong Li, karate island, hadoken. Got it.

Nope.

Oh, for Chrissakes, this was all covered in the damn briefing.

Which you were late to and then nearly died during.

Mm-mm-mm. So "disprofessional."

Yeah. Does this mean briefings are gonna start being fun again?

-Absolutely not! -[Krieger] Aw.

Krieger’s flying the damn plane,

and we’re supposed to be not drinking?

-[chuckles] Right? -[Krieger] Wait, we’re not?

Krieger!

So, I guess here’s to backup plans.

No. New, better Cheryl doesn’t do that!

New, better Cheryl? What the hell’s that?

I don’t know!

But she does very good typings

and many important, non-burny things.

Well, not me, so don’t mind if I do.

Hey, I was toasting and/or taunting you, Pam, not offering.

[belches] Agree to disagree.

[Archer] Oh, man.

Pretty sure I have the world’s first karate-island boner.

Could you not? We try to keep things professional around here.

Fine, God. How about "work-related erection"?

More like, maybe try not talking about your erection at all.

I... don’t know how.

Welcome, everyone, to the 12th annual Dragon Fire Kumite!

[crowd chanting]

Fighters, head to registration.

And everyone, please enjoy the loggerhead turtle sliders.

They’re almost extinct because they’re so tasty!

[cheering]

Mmm, he wasn’t kidding. These things are amazing.

Oh, put that away. I’m allergic to loggerhead.

Along with cat dander and motherly affection? Got it. Mmm.

Dear God, stop stuffing your face like a refugee.

It’s called carb loading, Mother.

-Mmm. -For what?

Karate island.

Actually, we’ll be entering Cyril

to fight in the tournament.

Officially ending the search

for your long-lost sense of humor.

It’s just, Cyril’s a bit more...

I think the term you’re looking for is "fully functioning."

How do I look?

You mean besides like you’ve got

the world’s first black belt in tax law?

[laughs] Right?

[Archer] We get it. You finally exercised.

Stop being such a dick about it.

Ignore him, Cyril. You’ll do fine.

Which is more than I can say for whatever this is supposed to be.

It’s called undercover.

As opposed to vaguely racist?

[laughs] Vaguely?

Ow!

Mission-focused, young lady.

You hear me?

Well, not out of this damn ear.

[belches] Oh, wait. That’s better.

What? She stole my flask, Mother. I’m the victim here.

Your job is to stick to the plan.

Stick to the plan. Got it.

I’ll do a Manhattan on the rocks.

Oh, for the love of...

-I want mission focus. -Jesus.

-Sync on me in three, two, one. -Wait. Sync on what?

-Mark. -Mark?

-I want comms checks... -Wait, who’s Mark?

...and everyone in position in two minutes.

Now move out.

I’m starting to feel like I maybe missed a meeting.

-[drums beating] -[cheering]

Okay. Once we get past the guards,

we trigger the halon system,

filling this place with a cloud of gas.

And then we whisk Win Li away in the chaos.

Right. So, uh, where are we on that refill?

Not really part of what we’re doing.

It’s called tradecraft, Lana.

You even care about blowing your cover?

I think your tradecraft’s a tad rusty.

Oh, so we’re making fun

-of my coma now. -[sighs] Archer...

Feels like a dark line to cross, Lana.

Sorry, not what I meant. Let’s just focus on our jobs.

Exactly. So yeah, lighter on the vermouth this time.

[bell dings]

And when you bring him his drink,

slip this into it.

Now careful. That’s highly-concentrated benzodiazepine.

[gasps] Oh, you mean a booster buddy!

Don’t worry, new, better Cheryl

totally stopped taking these twice a day.

Twice? How are you still even alive?

Thanks to Jesus.

He’s the Costa Rican guy I used to pay to pump my stomach.

Just get it done.

[Pam] Yeah, good luck with that.

Seriously, what’s he so worked up about?

[taunting in Mandarin]

How the hell should I know? I don’t speak angry-as-shit...

Mandarin?

I’m just the trainer.

Cleverly disguised as a drunk moron.

Who could still whip your bony ass.

Speaking of, how about you tag me in for a few rounds?

Feeling a little frisky. [chuckles]

This is why we don’t drink on duty, Pam.

We had a detailed mission plan, and--

-[bell dings] -That hopefully included

your dumb ass turning around.

[opponent] Hyah!

-[crowd cheers] -[groans]

-Great. -I know, right?

No, I mean there are more guards now...

[inaudible]

...who are apparently easily distracted.

Let’s move. Now.

-Archer. -Uh, hang on.

-Archer! -What?

I’m easily distracted too, Lana.

I’m trying to watch Cyril...

-[both grunting] -Hi-yah!

[bell dings]

...weirdly not getting his ass kicked.

Well, so much for--

Parking-spot schadenfreude.

And more importantly, for our chance

to just walk right on in there.

Unless...

-Pam, come in. -What the...

It’s a new microburst ear transmitter.

I know, dummy. Why don’t I have one in my ear?

Uh, because you’re not in tactical command?

But a cocktail waitress is?

That makes zero sense.

Ugh. Just... Pam, come in.

[Pam] All right, all right. Hold your damn horses.

Mr. Hogging-the-ring wants some water.

And she’s drunk. Happy now?

That you have space ears and I don’t? You tell me, Lana.

Space ears?

In my coma, we were in space,

and we put that word in front of everything.

It was pretty space great.

Ugh. I told Malory bringing you was a bad idea.

Oh, why is that? Because it conflicted

with your new life plan to avoid me?

No. Wait. What?

I’m not trying to stay away from you.

Please. Staying away is all you’ve been doing

since the coma, Lana.

Oh, that’s ridiculous.

It’s okay. I get it.

It’s obvious you don’t trust yourself around me.

[laughs] Wait, what? Why wouldn’t I?

Oh, well, I’ll, uh, give you a hint.

The answer rhymes with "my throbbing sexuality."

[Pam] All right. Glass Joe here is good to go. What’s up?

Oh, me? Just reeling from blunt force sexual imagery.

Hey, Lana says keep the fight going until their signal.

You got that?

[crowd cheers]

Well, in the hands of a lesser fighter...

Which, compared to me, you totally are.

Come on, Cyril. Give mama a turn.

-Pam, you’re drunk. -[laughs]

Since when’s that a damn problem?

Mission accomplished.

-Good. -Oh, wait.

-Non-accomplished. -What?

-"Disaccomplished"? -What happened?

I remembered new, better Cheryl

doesn’t drug random people anymore.

Oh, just shut up.

Clearly, I have to do everything around here.

[gentle Chinese music]

[Cheryl] Ooh. Don’t look now,

but I think a certain someone is into...

[Lana] Necrophilia?

My husband’s older, not dead.

It’s the same thing, Lana.

Unlike the sex,

which we both know was way better with me.

It’s hard to call it better when you hate yourself afterwards.

And yet, you kept coming back for more,

thereby proving how irresistible I am.

-[bell dings] -Wait. Lana, shut up. Check it out.

-Thank you. -Hey! What the hell are you doing?

Restoring balance to the universe, Lana. What’s it look like?

This is Sterling Archer, tactical commander, not Lana,

who, side note, is basically begging to have sex with me right-- Ow!

Will you just-- Come on!

[yells]

The hell kind of girls’ prison

did you learn to fight in?

Come on. Tag me in.

What the-- This isn’t pro wrestling!

[yelps]

I must say, your fighter

has been quite impressive.

He better be.

That man he’s fighting

usually has a killer right hook.

And that’s not a euphemism for anything.

People die all the time.

[crowd gasps]

Oh, wait. There it is.

[cell phone rings]

Oh, sorry. Work.

Y’ello.

[scoffs] Defective, my ass.

Hey, Yuri, try standing on one of those land mines,

and you’ll see how not defective they are.

Mm, sorry. Where were we?

[crowd cheering]

-[elevator door dings] -[Lana] So let me get this straight.

In your sick, little world, every moment I’m with you,

I’m basically a nanosecond away from ripping off my clothes,

jumping your bones and ruining my life?

-[chuckles] Your words. -Not how that phrase works.

Though it’s apparently how being obsessed with me works.

[silenced gunshots]

-Damn it, Archer! -What?

We don’t go around

shooting people anymore.

-Why not? -Because...

[silenced gunshots]

That’s literally 95% of the job.

W-We try to use nonlethal force now.

-[toilet flushes] -[whistles]

-[gasps] -[silenced gunshot]

It’s called a license to kill, Lana,

not a license to gently subdue.

-[laughs] -Is this funny to you?

Not you, idiot. [laughs] That.

Jesus Christ, Archer.

Did you forget to call Pam

and tell her we’re past the guards?

-Sure, let’s go with that. -Call her, God damn it. He’s...

Really getting killed out there.

-Well, in the meantime... -[cell phone rings]

Y’ello?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, Raoul, no one ever said

that bazooka could sink a cruise ship.

[chuckles] You want to take out a cruise ship,

I can sell you something to take out a cruise ship,

you kook! [laughs]

Okay, I’ll see you in Kiev. [hangs up]

Sorry, where were we?

I was just about to suggest we freshen our refreshments.

Mm, I like where this is going.

Wait, as in sex, right?

If you play your cards right.

Ah, and the delicate foreplay dance begins.

[moans]

-[gags] -Hey!

Whatever happened to "no more personal calls, Cheryl."

"No more four-hour lunches, Carol."

"No more shoving your fingers in"-- [chokes]

Pam, get Lana on comms and tell--

[groans]

[crowd cheering]

Jesus Christ!

Like beating a dead horse out there!

Pam... [spits tooth]

get Lana on the... talk box thing and tell her...

[Lana] What do you mean, you can’t call?

Mm, there’s no signal down here.

-Oh, idiot. -Idiot?

I didn’t invent how cement walls work, Lana.

-What? -The hell...

Okay, yeah, so...

Oh, I’m just gonna-- I’m just gonna go ahead and...

[vomits]

[crowd cheering]

That’s it. Calling my own number.

-Yah! -[crowd gasps]

Whoo!

Big Mama’s handing out biscuits, baby!

[crowd gasping]

Ah, you dare interfere with the Dragon Fire Kumite?

Well, somebody had to spice up this snoozefest.

Oh, then by rule, you must duel to the death

with the legendary Dragon Fire!

[choking]

-[crowd gasps] -[Pam] Conway Stern?

[choking] Take... me!

Uh... Pamela.

So glad you came.

Twice.

Tum-tum feeling better?

-Nice tone, Lana. -[guns cocking]

But yes, thank you for asking.

Okay, I’ve got an idea. Maybe try glaring at me tons more, Lana.

Maybe that’ll get us out of here.

Oh, I’m sorry. Was I glaring?

I thought I was just looking at the idiot who got us caught!

Well, with your resting bitch face...

-[gasps] -[guard] Hey, asshole!

No talking till Mr. Li gets here to kill you

with a bazooka, like you are cruise ship.

-[laughs] -Fine.

But if you scratch that cane,

it will literally end up inside your...

-Asshole. -[crowd cheering]

[laughs] Yeah. I probably deserve that.

I bet you miss me, though.

Not even close, bud.

What you could’ve gone with there is,

"Glenn Close, but no cigar."

Well, you’re about to have a dangerous liaison... with my fist!

[both grunt]

Oh, my, my, my.

Looks like a... reversal of fortune.

[straining]

Are you starting to feel a... fatal attraction?

No, it’s more like...

-Hook! -[growls]

[Lana] Uh...

Resting what face?

I’m not at all sure I follow.

-Bitch. -Pardon?

I believe you said, "resting bitch face."

Uh, honestly, I feel like I would remember that.

Ah, good. I must’ve misheard.

That means I don’t have to do this.

[groans] God damn it.

[thud]

Hey, I told you--

[shuddering]

[grunts] Son of a bitch!

Problem? [laughs]

[groans]

Well, not if you’d stand still

for, like, two fricking seconds.

[laughs] Yeah, I hear you.

I’m kind of like... Uh... I’m like a...

Muhammad Al-over the damn place?

Damn it!

[grunting]

[gunfire]

Go!

[screams]

Hey, Lana,

how’s the "non-murdering bad guys" thing going?

Well, like everything else you touch,

it’s kind of turned to shit.

Oh, my God! Did you just see that?

Full on, mid-air headshot!

That was so pre-coma me.

Yeah, like "being pinned down,

about to die, and it’s all your fault"

feels pretty pre-coma you also.

[laughs] Right?

Although...

...that’s kind of new.

[grunts, groans angrily]

[both grunting]

[grunts]

[crowd cheering]

[guard] Don’t move!

Lana, am I still in a coma?

What are you-- No. God damn it, no.

Damn, because this is gonna hurt.

[Conway] Any last words, Big Mama?

Yeah, they rhyme with go fu--

[Archer screams]

[screams]

You have got to be kidding me!

[chuckles] Oh, how you like that,

-Daniel Day-loser? -Ow!

As in My Left Foot. Yeah, yeah, that’s pretty good.

[people screaming]

[weakly] Ah, just like we planned.

[crying]

But you haven’t seen the last of Conway Stern!

Ow.

Which, is it my real name?

I’ll never tell you!

Oh, my God!

This hurts so much more than losing a hand.

[inhales deeply]

Good news!

Dear God.

Old, way better Cheryl is so back.

From where, a truck-stop bacchanalia?

Uh, sure, let’s go with that.

And where the hell have you been?

Uh, this new place called "almost dying."

Hardly.

You! You’ve ruined my entire operation!

Oh, go stuff a sock in it!

Swear to Christ, I have to do everything around here.

Now clean this up!

Hey. Where the hell’s Cyril?

Hello?

Oh, for the love of...

You forgot one!

Sorry, Mother. Mission-focused.

Your words. Can’t go back.

Christ, Archer, did you leave him

just to get your parking space back?

No.