All language subtitles for Pennyworth.S02E05.720p.BluRay.x264-BORDURE

I need you to do me one favor.
Don't give up.

You'll get to America in the end.

Let's get down to business,
shall we? I'm getting to America.

If you've got something
that can make that happen, I'm in.

I might just have something.

We've made no fucking progress at all.

If London falls,
the northern cities will surrender.

A full-scale artillery bombardment
would do the trick.

The League council
are electing a new prime minister.

As you may have heard,
the last one killed himself.

This good woman
is the rightful queen of England,

and we are the rightful government
of England.

I have no gift for politics.

But this new chap, Aziz...
He might listen to reason.

It had occurred to me.

Where the hell have you been?
We were worried sick.

Round and about, you know.

It's me friend, Katie.

I've told her nowt about me past,
and you'll do likewise.

- Are you trying to seduce me?
- I guess I am.

I've never been seduced
by a crypto-fascist bastard before.

I'm going home.

- No, you leave when I say you can leave.
- Fuck you.

- I'm Gully Troy, and you don't cross me.
- I'm Alfred Pennyworth, and I just did.

Thank you, for helping me.

Ancillary technical staff.
Dr. Lucius Fox.

Ladies and gentlemen,

you're about to see
a demonstration of Stormcloud.

This is the future of chemical warfare.

This is victory,
ladies and gentlemen.

Victory!

Get out of my way.

Fuck. Get out of my way!

Die, you evil bastard!

No, stop!

You once told me
you could get me on a plane to America.

Well, times have changed.
Everyone and his dog wants out.

Well, the embassy still operates
a regular flight out once a week,

but there are hundreds
on the waiting list.

I need three seats
on next week's flight to Gotham.

Seats are like gold dust.

Air crews are on the take,
customs are on the take. Immigration...

I didn't think we'd fly for free.
How much?

- Five grand a head.
- Fuck. I thought half that, tops.

Mmm. That's a conservative estimate.
You can't make that?

Not at this exact moment. No.

Well, maybe I could help.

- How?
- I could loan you the money you need.

Oh. That's very kind of you. No, thanks.

- It's no bother at all.
- No.

Why not?

I'd rather not be in debt to the CIA.
I know where that leads.

No strings between friends.

- We are friends, aren't we?
- You can call it that.

Thanks all the same.
I'll get your money for you. No problem.

File 457 NFH, contact log 35.

Alfred Pennyworth. Subject made contact

seeking assistance regarding travel
to and residence in America.

Subject is a recruitment target
of long standing.

- Good morning, sleepyhead.
- Morning.

- Oh, my God.
- I know. What did I do wrong?

Of course you don't know how to
make coffee. You have people for that.

I do.
And I'll bring them along next time.

I really have to get going.

What are you doing today?

Just, um, routine sentry duty.

You've been pretty busy
with the League lately.

I guess.

You're not putting yourself
in too much danger, I hope, are you?

Is it my imagination
or are you pumping me for information?

No. No, certainly not.
I worry about you, that's all.

- You don't worry about me?
- No.

I assume you can take care of yourself
like I can.

Well, I figure
when you're in a relationship,

people, they look out for each other.

This is, what,
the third time we've had sex?

- Fourth.
- Okay, fourth.

That's not a relationship.
That's sex, four times.

It's a sex thing.

And you're actually
pretty good for a rich guy.

Oh. Gee, thanks.

Well, if this sex thing is ever
gonna turn into a relationship,

then we'll need to be spending
a certain amount of time together.

Okay. Well, I really have to go.

Like, for instance, right now.

Can't League business
wait a couple of hours?

No. It's important.

Sentry duty? Really?

You're trying to make me mad.
You are pumping me for information.

- C-I fucking A to the bone.
- I give up.

You can't just go through life
pretending you like being alone.

I know it's very fashionable
and modern...

- I'm not pretending. I'm not pretending.
- Jesus.

Would an actual relationship
be that bad?

Let's be honest.
Most women would... They would...

They...

No. Please continue.

Go on. Tell me what most women would do.

Most women wouldn't try so hard
to get themselves killed.

It's like you want to get hurt.

It's like somewhere deep inside,
you hate yourself.

It's true. I don't love myself
quite as much as you love yourself.

But that's kind of healthy, I think.

Learn to hate yourself
a little bit more.

- Be good for your soul.
- See how you work.

When you make someone else
feel bad about themselves,

you feel good about yourself.
You're a self-esteem vampire.

Maybe you should leave now.

Okay, I... I take that back.
That was unfair.

Unfair because it's not true
or unfair because it's true?

I misspoke.

You're not Dracula...

but you do have some tendencies.

- You know what? Fuck you.
- I rest my case.

Ugh!

Clean your goddamn apartment. Slob.

I've thought about you often
since we met so strangely.

- How are you faring?
- Well enough, ma'am. And you?

Oh, one godawful ghastly thing
after another.

- Sorry to hear that.
- Keep out of politics, my dear.

Where on earth are you taking me?

Welcome.

- Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Gaunt.
- Prime Minister.

Martha, thank you so much
for arranging this. You are a treasure.

Isn't she? The minute I met her,
I knew she was special.

Well, I'll leave you guys to it.

And we have guards surrounding the place
so you won't be disturbed.

- Please.
- Odd venue.

It was one of my favorite restaurants.
Exquisite cassoulet. Mmm.

Alas...
I was surprised to hear from you.

I wanted to open channels
of communication, discreet channels.

Why now?

I've wanted to speak
to the League for some time,

but Archbishop Potter
was an amiable zealot.

- I hear that you're a reasonable man.
- I've heard the same of you.

Well, let's reason with each other,
shall we?

Well, I'd love to do that,

but I'm afraid Lord Harwood and I
are old acquaintances.

Good man in many respects,
but not near as reasonable as we are.

Great leaders are often more passionate
than they are reasonable,

don't you find?

I'm happy to talk in either case.

But do you speak for Harwood
and the Union or for yourself?

I speak for the good
of the English people.

Ah! How can I refuse such virtue?

If you were to agree a ceasefire,

a negotiated surrender
on honorable terms,

what would those terms be?

Surrender?

- I hadn't considered the notion.
- Of course you have.

With the army, the navy, the air force
solidly behind us, London is surrounded.

You have, what, 5% of the country?

Geographically. Psychologically,
I'd say we were still ahead.

You've conquered cities, not souls.

I don't think you understand
the seriousness of the situation,

Prime Minister.

We haven't even used
our most effective weapons yet.

- We've been showing great restraint.
- Ah, yes, your secret weapon.

Stormcloud, is it? What is that exactly?

You tell me.

No, no, no. We know all about it.
I was just curious to know if you know.

Perhaps Harwood compartmentalizes
such sensitive matters.

You know nothing about Stormcloud.
If you did, you'd be happy to surrender.

So tell me.

God help you if Stormcloud
is ever deployed. God help all of us.

- Dear me. Old Testament stuff, eh?
- Yes.

I wish I could tell you more.

Your message, in summary, we should
surrender to vague terroristic threats.

You should come to terms
with reality, Prime Minister.

The League holds London.

You don't destroy the city
to pry us loose,

the world's opinion
would not forgive you.

While we hold London,

I am the prime minister of
Her Rightful Majesty's government.

We are England.

You are just political criminals.
That's reality.

- Fuck's sake. That much?
- Yeah.

Fuck's sake. Hold on.

That means we don't have
enough money, Alfie.

Yeah, mate.
That's what I've been saying.

Oh...

Fuck.

Alfie, guess what. You'll never guess.
It's good news. Guess.

- Your dad's joined the circus?
- Good, yeah. Pukka whistle, this.

Look at that lining.
Arm and a leg, mate.

- Guess.
- Tell.

- She's only making a record.
- Dad. I wanted to tell him.

I'm making a record.

- Yes.
- Brilliant. Well done.

Well, it's just a demo
for the record company.

- But still, it's a record.
- It's a solid smash, as we call it.

Will you come
to the recording session, please?

- Uh, yeah, sure. I'll try.
- You always say that.

And I always try.

Please come.
I sing better when I feel safe.

Yeah, I'll be there.

- Okay. Bye, Daveboy.
- Keep well, hen.

Be cool, boys.

I do not believe you.

- What?
- For shame.

Yeah, all right. All right.
Leave it out. I'm not in the mood.

Aw, poor you. You're not in the mood?
That time of the month, is it?

Leave it alone.

I wait forever and a week and you've
still not told the poor lassie?

Well, we're not going anywhere,
are we?

We ain't got the money.
That's the problem, not Sandra.

Soon as we know we're going,
I'll tell her. All right? I'll tell her.

Fuck's sake.

All right, all right.
I'll leave it alone.

- First we need money.
- Well, that's easy enough.

We need to swallow our pride
and do one last job with Gully.

- You think so?
- What else can we do?

- I don't know, but Gully's dangerous.
- Mad as a hatter.

But we knew that
before we took the last job,

so what's the difference now?

True. No difference, really.

So you think we should do it?
One more job with Gully?

- What do you think?
- I'm asking you.

I don't know. You're the decision maker.

Well, why is it always me
that has to decide?

Why the fuck can't you
do the thinking for once?

Really? After all these years,
now you want me to do the thinking?

- You're going soft, man.
- Eh!

What's got into you?

- Thoughts?
- Easy enough entry.

- No good way out.
- There's always a good way out.

You're the expert.

I need to be sure of you, Alfie.

You've been a little...
flighty recently.

Personal problems?

Don't worry about me. I'm here.

Good enough.

If you do have problems,

I hope you know that you can
always come to me for advice...

encouragement.

Thanks.

Shall we say 1100 hours on Friday
at my house?

- Your house?
- Yes.

Well, wouldn't
somewhere neutral be better?

No.

Your place it is then.

Unhand me!

- What is it?
- It's Mrs. Gaunt, sir.

What happened? Is she all right?

The security branch informs us that
Mrs. Gaunt held a face-to-face meeting

with Prime Minister Aziz yesterday.

Yeah, I knew all about that.

- Sir?
- I instructed her to contact him.

- She's keeping me well informed.
- Good. That's a relief.

I trust the meeting was constructive.

Well, that's as may be,
but it's none of your affair.

These are matters of state,
beyond your ken.

- Yes, sir. I just...
- Beyond your ken. Do you hear?

Clark?

I want to call
a private North London number.

Good evening, sir.
Half price on all leather items.

- Would that include truncheons?
- It would.

We've a larger range in the stock room

if you don't see one there
that you like.

Do you have this
with more of a glossy finish?

More of a formal look?

Yeah, I think so. Let's see.

Get the phone, would you, Bet?

- I'm busy.
- I'm with a customer.

What are you looking at, chubs?

Nothing. I'm not... I mean...

I know you.

Where do I know you from?

- You're that beefeater from the Tower.
- Oh, fuckery.

I don't know who you are.
I've never seen you before.

Sorry, sir. No one's answering.

Now then. What's your name?

- Tell us your name!
- What the hell?

No bother. He's an old friend.
Just can't remember his name.

- George.
- George. Of course.

Please let me go. I won't tell her.

I won't say a word, I swear.
Just please don't hurt me.

Who the hell is he?
What are you going to do to him?

Only one thing to do.
You're for the chop, George.

- No.
- Can't be helped. We can't let him go.

- No! Peggy, tell her no!
- I would, but she's not wrong.

We let him go, he'll be off to the law,

and then she's back
in the Tower for hanging again.

Hanging? Again? What do you mean?

- Thank you very much. Very discreet.
- Sorry. It just slipped out.

What are you talking about?

I'll explain later, shall I?
When things are less hectic.

Explain now!

I told you.

- I told you tell her nowt.
- I said I was sorry.

Any road, she's got a right
to know your history.

- What history?
- Nothing. Nothing really bad.

Shut it, you.

It must be worse than what I've seen
or why would you be ashamed to tell me?

Fuck off.

Fuck off, the pair of you.

We had a little sister,
Marianne. Three years younger than Bet.

We called her May.

When Bet was 11,
they were on the way to school.

May fell in the canal and drowned.
People said Bet pushed her in.

But that's people.
They'll think the worst of you.

Did she?

- Push her in?
- No. It was an accident. I know it was.

Bet would have died for her. Hush.

Well, ever since then,
she tries to be good.

But bad luck just comes after her,
like George here.

He raped her, and she does
as she's done by, our Bet.

She's done some very bad things.

Tell me.

I'm not afraid.

You should be.

I've been looking for you.

Well, you found me.

Peggy's told me everything,
about May and what's been done to you.

What you've done.
Why didn't you tell me?

I was trying to make
a good impression. All right?

I'm sorry I wasn't honest. Now you know.

Now you can fuck off.

I'd rather stay.

Really? You would?

- I would, but...
- Oh, here we go. But what?

You can't just go around
hurting people when you feel like it.

You've got to stop doing that.

Well, I can try.

- I'll do my best.
- No.

You've got to promise that you'll stop.

All right. I promise.

- After George, that's me done.
- Not even George.

Not even George? How's that gonna work?

I don't know, but we'll think
of something. All right?

Here we go.

Unto the fucking breach,
my dear friends.

Eh?

- I said here we go.
- Yeah, here we go.

You all right?
You're as nervous as a blind cat.

I'm good.
This is the hand we've been dealt.

This is what we have to do.
That's what Bazza would say.

- Morning.
- Come in.

- They're all through there. Cup of tea?
- Two sugars, please, love.

- I'm surprised to see you here.
- It's just business.

- I thought you had more self-respect.
- Won't happen again.

Oh, that? No, that was nothing.

I meant this idiotic crime spree
you're going on.

- Oh, that? Piece of cake.
- Mmm.

- How do you take your tea?
- Last of the pot, dab of milk, no sugar.

The night's takings
are kept in the manager's office

in the basement,
which we access via this door here.

The main event is scheduled
for five four-minute rounds,

with a minute's break
between each round.

We're gonna use
that 25-minute window to get in and out,

while every eye is on the ring.

Because when the fight is over,

every one of these exit routes
will be jammed with people.

Questions?

- Aye.
- Yeah?

What if the fight ends early?

The main event
always goes to the final round.

They want to sell
all the beer and the pies.

Can't have punters leaving early.

Aye. But what if there's a knockout
or a fucking submission or something?

- The fights are staged, Daveboy.
- What, you mean, like...

What, fixed? No, no, no.

- Are you soft?
- Everyone knows they're fixed.

Well, some of them are a bit bent maybe.
I get that.

It's human nature to cheat, but...

- All of them?
- Yes, mate.

For fuck's sake.

And here's more bad news for you.
Father Christmas is bollocks, too.

- You shut the fuck up, Banjo.
- Steady on, lads.

- Shut it yourself.
- What did I just say?

Who the fuck are you to say shite to me?

- I'm warning you...
- Silence!

Jesus.

Could you look at me, Melanie?

I have commanded 1,000 men in battle.

Taken cities and sat with kings...
Sat with fucking kings.

And yet here I am
with a rabble of squabbling thieves.

Pitiful, isn't it?

- You gonna say something, darling?
- God, I'm bored.

No. Don't leave just yet,
you know, Melanie.

You have to be polite to our guests.

Low creatures they may be,

but they do pay
for all of your fucking shoes.

Hmm.

Thank you all very much
for my fucking shoes.

And thank you for putting up
with my husband's appalling manners.

God, I love that woman.
Brave as a lion.

Now, where was I?
We have 25 minutes. No more, no less.

- Clear.
- Go, go.

Ladies and gentlemen,
it's time for the main event.

A five-round contest

for the Ladies Catchweight Championship
of England.

And coming to the ring first,
the fighting pride of Poplar,

the masked mistress of mayhem,
the meanest woman in the home counties,

Mad Janet Murphy.

Right. You two, wait here.

Anyone comes through those doors,
deal with them.

Yes, sir.

And now,
your golden girl. The Venus of violence.

The Aphrodite of the fray.

The undisputed
Catchweight Champion of England,

Rowdy Rose Perkins.

Yeah!

Come on!

No trouble.
Let's all go home happy tonight, yeah?

- For fuck's sake.
- Sorry about this. Won't be long.

I don't know the combination,
so there's no use asking.

We know. Thank you.

Do you know what happened
to the last blokes that tried this?

The Barrett Brothers?

- Ha! Amateurs.
- You're laughing now.

Wait till your bollocks
are nailed to the floor.

Everybody always talks about
nailing bollocks to the floor,

but nobody actually does it, do they?

- You'll see.
- Empty words, pal.

Shh! Down.

Slow down. We got time.

Twenty-one minutes.

Shit.

Seconds away, round two.

- Fourteen minutes.
- Nearly there.

Ah, this is the life, eh?
Gets the blood flowing.

Fuck me, it's hot.

What the hell is wrong with you?

- What's wrong with you?
- What the fuck?

- One, two, three...
- Just get back to the routine.

Wait. Wait.

Ease up.

No, you fucking ease up.

You bitch!

Easy, Rose. Easy.

Twelve minutes.

Stop it.

Right. Desk, please.

- Daveboy.
- Yeah.

You three, heads down.

Fire in the hole.

Uh, ladies and gentlemen,

uh, we regret to inform you that
for unavoidable medical reasons,

this concludes
this evening's entertainment.

Thank you very much.
Please leave in an orderly fashion.

Thank you. Good night.

They're ten minutes early.

- I told you the fights weren't fixed.
- Let's go.

- We haven't finished the job.
- Well, we can't blow the safe.

Everyone will hear it. The exit routes
will be jammed with people.

Who dares wins, eh?

It's a bomb! It's a bomb!

For fuck's sake. What the fuck was that?

Oh, Jesus!

We need to get out of here now.
We have to leave.

Bags, now.

I want you to know that I love you, baby

Want you to know that I care

I'm so happy when you're around me

But I'm sad when you're not there

So tell me, whatcha gonna do about it?

- Oh, yeah
- Whatcha gonna do about it?

- I go crazy
- Whatcha gonna do about it?

- You're so nice
- Whatcha gonna do about it?

I want you to give me
Your sweet, sweet kisses...

Get back. Fucking get back.

Whatcha gonna do about it?

Whatcha gonna do about it?

- Whatcha gonna do about it?
- Oh, yeah

Whatcha gonna do about it?

Now you hear the music...

What the...

I want you to know that I love you, baby

I said this before, but I care

You know that I'm so happy
When you're around me

And I'm sad when you're not there...

Get out of my way.

- Get out of my way!
- Die, you evil bastard!

No, don't. Stop!

Alfie. Alfie, move.

Come on.

- Yes, beautiful.
- Yes, we did it, boys.

We fucking done it.

Oh, yeah, you fucking done it,
all right. Done it good and proper.

- What's your problem?
- There's dead civvies back there,

and you're all laughing
like we've done a good job.

Get the fuck. Accidents happen.

As if you never killed a civvy before.

I have, but never in a panic with
my mask off in front of 100 witnesses.

- I've never done that.
- Fuck off.

- I didn't panic.
- You kind of did.

- Fuck you, too.
- Shut it.

All of you.

Bad things happen in combat. We move on.

Combat, my arse. We're not soldiers.

- We're thieves. Murderers now.
- Oh, do stop whimpering, boy.

- I've had enough...
- Alfie.

Let's go home.

We'll have a brew, eh?

Bye-bye, Alfie.

No worries, Alfie. We'll be
in America before the plods catch Banjo.

- "No worries"?
- Don't be so hard on yourself.

Now, we may be murderers,
but we're rich murderers.

- Mum.
- Alfie.

I haven't seen you for days.
I was worried about you.

Wheeling and dealing, you know.
I've sorted the money.

- We can be off to America after all.
- Where did you get the money?

- Ah, don't worry about that.
- Well, how?

Well, it was just business, you know.

It wasn't at the wrestling, was it?

What?

No.

There's people dead.

Yeah. I heard about that. Shocking.

No, no. Me? No.
Um, I just closed a nice deal.

Smuggling petrol, if you must know.

Look at me.

Tell me it wasn't you who robbed
the wrestling and killed those people.

Wasn't me.

Oh, my God.

- Oh, Alfie.
- Look, things went wrong.

- I was never...
- Get out.

- Mum...
- Get out!

I don't want to hear it.
I don't want to look at you.

Thank God your dad isn't alive today.

- Now get out.
- Look, Mum.

It's a terrible, tragic thing
what happened.

Look, I'm ashamed and I am sorry,

but we have to try
and move forward, you know.

This tragedy is all the more reason

we have to get to America,
quick as you can.

For the millionth time,
I'm not going to America.

Least of all with a murderous robber.

- Oh, Mum, please...
- Enough!

You can send Daveboy
to fetch your clothes.

Get out.

Hello, Jimmy.

- Aren't we having a council meeting?
- Postponed.

Oh. Well, good. I, uh...

I wanted to talk to you in private
about this Stormcloud disgrace.

Disgrace?

That's rich, coming from you, my friend.

I'm not sure I like
that tone in your voice.

Oh, really? Well, that won't do.
I shall be more cheerful, shall I?

- Must keep the old girl happy.
- Jimmy.

Perhaps a little dance
would please you, hmm? Hmm?

For God's sake, Jimmy, what's wrong?

I mean, pretty bloody spry
for a mad old cripple.

Your new friend dance as well as I do?

Oh, of course.
Sorry. I'm being a bit slow.

Iron deficiency, I suspect.
This is about Aziz.

No, I was going to give you
a briefing on that.

"A briefing." Good. Well, then
everything is tickety-boo, isn't it?

I went to speak to him on your behalf.
I thought you'd approve.

Secret meetings with the prime minister
of the English League...

whispering in dark corners.

And I have to hear this from underlings.

Well, wouldn't you like to hear
what he had to say?

No. I damn well do not want
to hear what he had to say.

How can I trust what I hear?

How do I know
you're not working for him now?

This is absurd.

Do you see what you've done?

If I don't know that I can trust you,
then you're no good to me.

And I can't know, not for certain.
Not now.

Jimmy, you are not yourself.

Have you been taking
your medication properly?

Of course you'd go to that.
I'm... I'm crazy. I'm paranoid.

How long have we known each other?

- All my life.
- Exactly.

Is there no one I can trust?

- Am I completely bloody alone?
- Jimmy.

You broke my heart, Frances.
You broke my fucking heart.

Guards.

No, don't do this, Jimmy.
Jimmy. Jimmy, this is insane.

- I was trying to help you!
- Yes, of course, Frances.

You're right. I'm crazy.
You were just trying to help me.

Thank you, Frances.

Good evening, Mrs. Troy.

My name is Melanie. You look tired.

You look pretty good, Melanie,
considering. Walk into a door?

No.

- I'm sorry.
- Don't be. I detest pity.

Why are you here?

Why do you think?

He hurt you, so you want to hurt him.

Nobody can hurt Gully.
He's made of bones.

Mmm.

Would you like me to leave?

No.

Tape's rolling. Whenever you're ready.

For you, I was a flame

Love is a losing game

Five-storey fire as you came

Love is a losing game

One I wish I never played

Oh, what a mess we made

And now, the final frame

Love is a losing game

Played out by the band

Love is a losing hand

More than I could stand

Love is a losing hand

Self-professed

Profound

Till the chips were down

Know you're a gambling man

Love is a losing hand

Though I battle blind

Love is a fate resigned

Memories mar my mind

Love, it is a fate resigned

Over futile odds

And laughed at by the gods

And now, the final frame

Love is a losing game

Do you remember that night raid
in the Sulawesi Channel?

Aye. I remember.

It was full moon. Clear as day.
You went in first.

- Buggers all dug in at the treeline.
- Yeah.

Got us out of a tight spot.

You're a damn good soldier, Banjo.

There were little turtles on the beach.

Hundreds of them.

Turtles, you say? Really?

I don't remember that.

It was that quiet at first...

before the gunfire.

You could hear them
all making for the water.

Thousands of little flippers
in the sand.