All language subtitles for Duster.S01E04.Criminalus.Velocitus.Super-Sonicus.720p.MAX.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.x264-NTb

Beep-beep!
Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

Uncle Jim. You're missing it.

I'll be right there.

Hey, it's Jim. So
what's the deal?

Mad Raoul is fucking furious.

And someone is
coming for you today.

Come on, the hell
you mean today?

I told you, Blanquito,
Mad Raoul never forgets.

And he's sending the
reaper to collect.

Is that a fuckin' nursery rhyme?

It's a fucking fact.

Got word from my primo who's got
a little cigarro shop down there.

Mad Raoul ordered a
dozen fresh cigars.

That's bad news amigo.

What the hell do cigars
got to do with anything?

It's his victory lap.
It's Mad Raoul's ritual,

cold-blooded murder and
then a pinche cohiba.

He's sending Enrique the
Blade to finish you off.

That's his name?
Enrique the Blade?

When he's done with you, Mad
Raoul's gonna light a fat one

and curse your name goodbye.

When's this guy coming?

My primo started rolling
tobacco last night.

The Blade could be
in Phoenix already.

You're just telling me this now?

Blanquito, you just
fuckin' called me!

Now, grow some eyes in the back
of your fuckin' head and run.

You want some Hooks and Ladders?

No thanks, Peanut.

You got that vein again.

No, I don't.

How's the Road Runner?

He's my favorite.

He's fast and smart.

Beep-beep!

Meep-meep!

Uncle Jim?

Sure you're okay?

Yeah.

Morning.

Anything on Paris Gilford?

Not yet, but Records
is doing a full search.

Agent Abbott's asking
for you, Agent Hayes.

Said it was urgent.

What's going on?

Agent Abbott should tell you.

I'm sure Evelyn will be touched.

Okay, thanks.

What's up?

Breen's dead.

Killed himself this morning.

They found him...

hanging in his room.

He trained me when
I joined the Bureau.

They don't make arrows
straighter than Breen.

I'm so sorry, sir.

He loved an off-color
joke, good scotch,

but till he fell apart,
he was the best of us.

Who else knows about your
little visit to the sanitarium?

-Only Agent Bitsui.
-Keep it that way.

If Braddock hears about this,
that I knew and I didn't tell him,

you and I are both punching
tickets to Montana.

-When's he back?
-Tomorrow.

So you better have hard evidence
that you are deep inside Snowbird

by the time he
hits this bullpen.

I can't keep protecting you.

We got problems.

I signed in blood to ride for Mad Raoul
but stayed in town, thanks to you.

Now he's sent a killer after
my ass, Enrique the Blade.

-And he might already be in town.
-I thought you settled that.

I had a dirty cop to deal with.

You need to call in the
cavalry, Baltimore, and soon.

-What cavalry?
-Get this guy arrested. Something.

Jim, I can't pull any strings
if I'm hanging on by a thread.

What the hell does that mean?

I got a former agent who just killed
himself after I went to go see him.

I've got damn near every
agent in the building

second-guessing every move
my partner and I make,

and my ASAC is coming back to town,
and he might send me to Montana.

What the hell is an ASAC?

My boss.

I need proof that I have access
inside Saxton's organization.

Proof that I need
you to provide.

So what, you can't help
me until I help you?

So help me.

All right.

That meeting Sax had was with
a bunch of Russian dudes.

Russian?

Yeah.

The guy was huge with a
giant birthmark on his face.

Did you get a name?

No, but birthmark guy
mentioned someone named Xavier.

Mean anything to you?

Xavier, no. You?

-No.
-What else?

Sax was happy about how the meeting went,
said it could have global implications.

He's got another
meeting next week,

said he's gonna need an
interpreter for that one,

wants to use some antiques
importer in Flagstaff for that.

-A Russian interpreter.
-Yeah, is that enough?

What, to help with
Ernesto the Knife

-or whatever...
-Enrique the fuckin' Blade!

No, it's not enough.

I need paperwork. I need purchase
orders, deal memos, partner contracts.

-I don't have access to that shit!
-Well, get access to it.

And for both of our
sakes, do it fast.

Hey, man. How ya feeling?

Better watching Bogart.

Man, these cops think
they got him boxed,

but he ain't never
going out like that.

You seen this one, yeah?

If your pops taught me
anything, it's to love Bogart.

Only one I've watched
more than this one is...

-Key Largo.
-Key motherfuckin' Largo.

-Bogie and Edward G. Robinson.
-Mm. Double the gangsters, double the fun.

Hey.

I, um...

I never thanked you for
what you did for me.

I wouldn't be watching
Bogie without you.

Just doin' my job.

You always say that shit.

But what you did was
above and beyond, Jimmy.

Least I can do is
buy you a drink.

How about tonight after I get back
from the Scottsdale warehouse?

What you heading there for?

First run after the surgery.

And what do you say?

Short list today. Roscoe
Mabry's been up my ass.

Hit him first. Then Goldie Kramer,
tell her we'll pull payments

if she can't keep
her husband in line.

-Boss busy?
-He's always fucking busy.

Thanks, jackass. I just
got a question for him.

If it's about that rash on your
dick, yeah, I'd get it looked at.

No walk-ins today, Mabry and
Kramer, hit the fuckin' road.

Hey, is that Rocky
Marciano out there?

Reigning champ of
Duncan's Layaway?

-Get in here.
-You're an asshole.

All good on the deliveries?

Yeah, just checked on Royce.
Making his first post-op run?

Yeah. Doc says being out
and about is good for him.

Figured I'd send him out on a
pick-up, something nice and easy.

Sean's gonna drive with him.

What?

What, is he crying again?
Or laughing like a hyena?

-No, he seems good.
-Yeah, for now.

It's like a
rollercoaster with him.

You never know if he's
blubbering or chuckling.

It's fucking unnerving.

Listen, I'm already
going to Paradise Valley.

If Royce is headed to
Scottsdale, let me drive.

I'll keep a close eye on him.

Make sure he stays in line?

And cover his ass if he don't.

My man.

Fuckin' oil everywhere.

-Damn it.
-Hey!

Quit hoggin' the john. Some
of us got routes to run.

Just wait a sec.
It's occupied.

It's okay, Hector. I'm done.

-All yours.
-What were you doin'?

Dyeing your hair?
Washing your pantyhose?

Fuck off.

Anytime, sweetheart.

Mr. Temple? Your secretary
stepped away, you got a second?

Well for you, of course.

Remind me, what's your name
again? I've met so many new faces.

Izzy Reyna.

Izzy, right.

Sales girl?

Oh, no, no, secretary pool?

-Long-haul trucker.
-Well, no shit.

Good for you!

Love a woman who knows
how to handle a stick.

So, what's on your mind, Izzy?

-Mr. Temple, do...
-Oh, please, call me Bob.

Bob, during your
welcome speech, you...

talked about priorities as
interim union president.

Well, interim won't last.

But, yes, hours, pay, pension
are bread and butter issues.

Yes, and I think health
and safety are, too.

There aren't safe washrooms
for drivers like me.

We need women's locker rooms.

So, you want union funds
to redecorate bathrooms.

-No, not redecorate.
-Oh, you want special treatment?

I want equal treatment.

I shouldn't have to recruit
a guy at every truck stop

to guard the door while I pee.

And I shouldn't have to wait
at the back of the line,

like most of the
women drivers do,

to get enough driving routes to
qualify for healthcare coverage.

Sweetheart, there are only a handful
of women truckers driving local.

A hundred and twenty-six of us, and
we pay dues just like the next guy.

Mr. Temple, the board
call's starting.

Miss Reyna, I will be sure to add
new bathrooms to the suggestion box.

Hey, there. Bob's on.

I need a list of antiques
importers in Flagstaff.

Oh, for your apartment? Groovy.

I know of some great knick-knack
shops around, you don't have to go

-all the way to Flagstaff.
-No shopping, unfortunately.

My apartment looks
like a monastery.

I'm just following a lead.

Keep an eye out for
international importers,

anyone who might speak Russian.

Russian? Wow. I'm on it.

You had to keep pushing.

Sticking your nose
where it doesn't belong.

Now Breen's wife's
a widow. Great work.

You good?

Fine.

Just exercising.

In the basement? Staring
at Saxton's file?

-Toxicology report come back?
-Not yet.

You gonna tell me what's what
or just change the subject?

Grant thinks it's my fault,
what happened to Breen.

Grant doesn't even know we went
to the hospital. And fuck Grant.

When Braddock finds out, he's
gonna kick me out the door.

Not if we get a break
in the case first.

So what's with the push-ups?

What? I'm not allowed to ask
about your exercise routine?

It's not about exercise,
it's about stress.

My fiancé taught me.

You're engaged?

Not anymore.

He was my college boyfriend. It was
a thing he did to blow off steam.

He said, "When you feel
your heart pounding,

and your chest tightens, drop to the
floor and do as many push-ups as you can."

It works.

So why'd you break up?

'Cause you need more than
push-ups to stay together.

'Cause he wanted me
to be a doctor's wife.

Make his life my life.

He wanted me to choose.

This case or him.

And so I did. I
went to Quantico,

and here I am.

Given how it's going, I
might've made a big mistake.

Hell no. Forget about him.
And that asshole upstairs.

We're gonna crack
this thing. I know it.

Run it again. What did Breen
say before he threw the knife?

I told you, he was not well.

He was talking about
pies and riddles, and...

acting paranoid.

What else sticks out?

He said, "Put the numbers together."
Then some other crazy shit.

He was talking like a person who
should be in a mental hospital.

Put what numbers together?

I don't know.

Actually, no...

Wait...

"Follow... Follow the
numbers." That's what he said.

Awan?

Hello?

Look, the dates are still on
the folders. March 5th, 1937.

Now, we thought these
were typing errors.

There are other
back-dated ones, right?

Yeah, there was another one.

It's this one.

January 11th, 1907.

Maybe they go together.

Remember, Breen taught
Logistics and Reasoning.

He definitely talked in puzzles.

Maybe he left something
in these numbers.

-For who?
-For whoever came next.

For you?

Okay, now you're thinking
like a comic book fanatic.

I was just thinking that maybe
Breen is like The Riddler.

I love Frank Gorshin, do you?

I'm more of an Eartha Kitt girl.

If you're right about this,
I'll buy you a cactus sandwich.

Nopales, you'd like 'em.

Nopales, no, thank you.

I know Pops asked
you to ride with me,

but I don't need a babysitter.

He didn't ask, it was my idea.

Figured this was
better than a drink

since we haven't spent
time together in a while.

Wanted to check in with
you, see how you're doing.

I'm all right.

Healing up. Getting a lot
more attention from Pops

than I'm used to,
that's for sure.

He's just showing you love.

I just wish I felt a
little more respect.

What does that mean?

I'm the disappointment
of the family.

He even trusts Genesis
more than he does me.

-He thinks I'm weak.
-That's not true.

I've always been sick.

Never as strong as Pops wanted.

When he needed to close that
job with Jacamo, did he send me?

No, he sent Billy. Who'd he send
to deal with the Robbins Boys?

Sean. Bakersfield job, you.

Okay, okay, I get it.

But trust me, I know what it's
like to be compared to somebody.

Your brother was like Bogart.

He's cool as shit.

But Joey's shadow ain't never
stopped you from gettin' respect.

Still hard to live up to.

I feel that, too, what
you said about respect.

What? No, you don't.

Yeah, I do.

I'm just the driver.

Nobody ever looks at me as
anything more than that.

Your Pop gives me jobs,

but never lets me in on
the why or how of things.

I've never even been in
Scottsdale warehouse.

When we get to the warehouse,

come in and walk
the floor with me.

I'll give you a crash course, show
you how the whole thing works.

You in?

In.

No peeking. It's a surprise.

Okay. Open.

Wow.

Well, I know how
much you like cars,

so I thought you might
wanna have some of your own.

It's the 1968 hot
pink Beatnik Bandit.

David, this is too much.

Iz, it's just toy cars. We'll...

maybe we'll get in a little
racing, grab some food.

Please. Please, please, please.

Fine.

Hey, can I, uh...

-Yeah.
-Can I talk to you?

Yeah.

What are you doing?

I'm trying to bribe your kid.

I'm just giving you a break.
You got a lot going on.

I thought this could
keep Luna busy,

make things a little
easier for you.

Thank you for thinking of me.

Thank you. For a second, I
thought you were gonna punch me.

I wanna punch
somebody, but not you.

This fucking union president
is driving me crazy.

I know. I've worked with
my share of assholes.

Had a chief of
medicine who hated me.

So what did you do?

I asked around and found out he
was trying to pull the same crap

with other new residents,
and we realized,

he could brush off a
complaint from one of us,

but not all of us.

Dr. Cesar Chavez.

I wasn't gonna let that son of a
bitch get in the way of my work.

You can't either.

You organize, they'll
follow where you lead.

It's not a
substitution cipher.

And there are too many numbers for
it to be phone numbers or case files.

Or it's nothing.

Unless he meant it literally.

What?

"Follow the numbers."

What? Like longitude
and latitude?

Yeah. What was the original order of
the case files? What would that be?

It's 35, then 37,
1775, then dash 111,

then 07, then 7328.

Awan...

-did we just solve this?
-It's on the reservation.

So what's the problem? What,
bad blood with the feds?

I can't go there.

-What?
-I can't.

Okay. Hold on a second.

So you're saying that a
young woman from Baltimore,

stuck in the hot-as-fuck
Arizona desert,

whose ass is on the line,

has to go to a Navajo reservation
to break a case, to save said ass,

and yet her partner,
who is Navajo,

who grew up on the fucking
reservation, refuses to go with her?

-Is that what you're saying?
-Fine.

I'll go.

Jesus, that was exhausting.

This is our
Scottsdale warehouse.

And all 12 warehouses operate
based on the same model.

Special shipments are
handled in the service rooms,

standard packages
on the main floor.

Wow. Sounds like a
lot of paperwork.

That's what she's for.

Every incoming and
outgoing package,

weight, box counts,
receiving dates, contracts.

Every warehouse has a data
entry clerk that keeps...

Royce.

Ready when you are.

Thanks, Louie. Be right there.

You're not gonna believe
what I'm here to pick up.

Wait here.

Don't overpack the crates, man.

We gotta keep our trucks
incognito at weigh stations.

Can't have no hero rent-a-cop
fucks gettin' nosy and searching.

We don't want another
fucking El Paso.

Wasn't on me.

I double-fucking-checked
those crates.

Are you with management?

Do I look like I'm
with management?

I only asked because Rae was fired
for typing under 60 words a minute.

Fire you? Not a chance.

I was just gonna ask where a lovely
thing like you learned to type so fast.

I used to work for my daddy.

-He's a dentist.
-Really?

Let me see those pearlies.

Come on.

I'd be damned, you type
as good as your teeth.

What are you working on here?

Some shipping manifests.

I... I type them into the
forms to keep them neat.

What do you do
with the old ones?

Oh, no. They just get thrown
out in the trash over there.

And then they get incinerated.

No kidding.

Well, I'll save you a trip
and throw these away for you.

Thank you.

Holy shit.

What the hell is this car?

It's Howard Hughes' car.

The fuck are you doing
in Howard Hughes' car?

He's doing some
business with Pops.

Hughes?

-What kind of business?
-Fuck if I know.

This is what I mean. No respect.

All I know is this fine-ass piece
of machinery is part of the deal.

Let's see what this baby can do.

You okay?

Yeah.

What is that?

-Antelope.
-Jesus Christ.

-It tastes like pork.
-No. No question

about food should ever be
answered with antelope.

Where is your
sense of adventure?

There's something seriously
wrong with your taste buds.

So what's the story?

Why didn't you
wanna come out here?

It's just up ahead there.

All right.

There's no way Breen
meant to send us here.

Well, maybe he left
us something inside.

Shit.

What?

You two are trespassing.

On sacred lands between
the four mountains.

Shut up, Darrel.

Awan! How's it hanging?

Groovy, thanks.

What you doin'?

Investigating. Potential
federal conspiracy.

Man, you feds get
all the cool shit.

Last two weeks, I got
assigned to figure out

who was stealing blouses
from Mrs. Nez's clothesline.

You had her, right,
for... for science?

Yeah, I figured it's one of the
Tsosie brothers stealing her tops.

Can't prove it though.

Gonna introduce me?

This is Darrel.

Darrel Yazzie.

I remember this guy when
he used to eat crayons.

You still eat crayons?

Just on the weekends.

Explains your taste buds.

I'm Agent Nina Hayes.

All right.

Black woman FBI agent. Didn't
know they were doing that.

As a rule, they're not.

You know, Awan wasn't
always a hotshot fed.

Does your dad know you're back?

Can we not get into that?

Oh. Yeah, dude. Sorry.

All families are
fucked up, you know.

We're trying to open the trunk.

Wanna help us out?

Well, I'm glad I could
help you find your sand.

What are you looking for?

We don't know.

I miss having you around, man.

Hey, you letting your ear holes
close up? Where's your turquoise?

He always wore turquoise
earrings. Like these, you know.

Keeps you invincible.

That shit doesn't work.
It's just old stories.

Look, I'm not saying I believe
in magical powers either,

but why push your luck?

Thanks for trying to help
us out, but we're good.

All right, dude.
Well, good luck.

Nice to meet you, Nina.

You too, Darrel.

Dude.

Go see your dad.

Ooh.

I think I got something.

All right.

You want me to pull over?

You could do some push-ups.

My family's been
here for generations.

My grandfather was a
sheepherder after The Long Walk.

And my father was, too.

So, when I was 14,
I started helping.

Problem was, my dad's Navajo, but
my mom's a White lady from Detroit,

so I've always been caught in the
middle of them and this place.

So when I told them I
was joining the Bureau,

he said that I was
joining the enemy.

He cut me off.

I'm so sorry.

My dad thought I was just pushing
it aside to get outta here,

but I think about it every day.

That's why I joined...

'cause we need someone who knows

what it means to serve and
protect people like me.

Even if it means some
of 'em hate me for it.

-Thank you.
-Right, right.

-I say that every single time.
-Yeah, because if they...

Inflation, bills, plus rent.

Does anybody know about
this new asshole that's...

Oh. I met... I met Bob Temple
back when he was driving.

And I only remember because he
grabbed my ass in Duane's parking lot

and said, "Your daddy a baker?
'Cause those are some nice buns."

Temple's a real winner.

Men like him act like the
rules don't count for them.

And they're fuckin' right.

I'm sick of asking guys I don't
know to block the showers for me.

-Yes.
-I'm sick of not having

a place to take a piss at
every goddamn weigh station.

I'm sick of having
my boobs grabbed

or my ass slapped every
time I wanna fill up my rig.

And having to beg for
healthcare from people

who wanna keep this
thing a boy's club.

And God forbid, one of
us gets sick. Right?

Straight fired.

Gracias, mija.

Look, we can't keep complaining
quietly and hoping it gets better.

I'm not just gonna sit around.

Like hell is it gonna be
this way when Luna's my age.

Well, I got a full tank of gas and I'm
ready to charge, you just point the way.

-Yeah, we're here, so what do we do?
-Yeah.

Well, the way I see it, Bob Temple's
doing most of the work for us.

He's a scumbag.
We all know that.

-But I bet we're not the only ones.
-Yeah.

I mean, this is supposed
to be a union, right?

-Yeah.
-Right?

-Yes.
-So let's start uniting.

Okay. Okay.

Rally up every driver that
motherfucker has ever pissed off,

and let's make some noise!

-Yes. Yes.
-I'm ready to start digging!

-Let's do it.
-Ladies, we're going to war.

Whoo!

You're really pushing her.

Got a lotta horses
under this hood.

Okay.

Slow her down.

That engine's a flathead.

Exhaust ports go through
the block and water jacket.

What?

It gets hot.

Oh, shit. Look out!

Shit!

-Holy...
-Shit.

Yeah.

Oh, shit. I knew it.

-God damn it! Shit! Shit!
-Told ya to ease up.

The fuck do I do?

There's a gas station up ahead.

I'll follow you in.

Okay.

Fuck.

The playback has gotta get
clearer than this, right?

Max is way better at
this stuff, but he's out.

Can you fix it?

I'll do what I can.

There's a lot of heat damage.

For whatever it's worth,
my father would've thought

I was crazy for
becoming a fed, too.

I keep wondering,

if my father knew he was
the reason I signed up...

maybe he'd laugh at the irony.

Maybe he'd find a way
to be proud of me.

But there's still
time with your father.

Time for him to come around.
See how proud he should be.

Ooh-wee!

Don't see too many
overheatin' spaceships.

Looks outta this world,
but it's just a...

Lincoln K Model V12 limo.

I was driving cars
before you was born.

Can you fix it?

Ain't met a spaceship
I couldn't fix.

Like, how much you think
something like this'll cost?

Like, don't fleece me now.

There's another garage 36
miles that-a-way if you want.

Yeah, okay. Whatever,
man. Just get it done.

Gonna hit the head.

Let's get her on the lift.

How long will this take?

What was that?

Come on, man.

Shall we? Take a break?

Have a drink?

I dig it.

So let's see here.

-I got something you're gonna want.
-All right.

Elvis' fuckin' blue suede shoes.

The soles of the King himself.

You let me go,
they're all yours.

Oh, keep that shit, cabrón.

We all know that Little Richard
is the true king of rock 'n' roll.

Yeah, well,

it was worth a shot.

We oughta...

Yup.

Just curious,

the reason Mad Raoul wants me
dead, you think it's justified?

I have no idea.

He only sees you
as the assassin.

We got that in common.

Yeah? What is your job?

Wheel man.

Ah, yes.

You will only ever
be "the driver?"

Bingo.

Which is all right for
a while. But, I mean...

what's the future in that?

Freeze right there,
motherfuckers!

Fix this ship fast, old man.

Have you ever read
Pitirim Sorokin?

Can't say I have.

He's a Russian sociologist.

He says that there are
six types of mobility.

There's vertical, horizontal,
downward, inter-generational,

intra-generational and upward.

We...

We want upward, to move
to a higher up the chain.

Does Sorokin say
how you move up?

That's the question of
the fuckin' day, right?

I'll tell ya how.
We get noticed.

We get noticed, we get promoted.

How do we get noticed?

You take that car,
you are fucked!

You hear me? We'll
hunt you down.

We'll be long gone.

-Let's get the fuck outta here.
-Hey.

Hell, yeah.

Howard fuckin' Hughes?

There's only one like it.

You bring that car home, Mad Raoul
won't look at you the same again.

And what's stopping me
from killing you anyway?

Well, nothing.

Except, it wouldn't be very sportsmanlike,
killing a man you just had drinks with.

Jim!

Fuck! Fuck! Where
the fuck were you?

Where the fuck's the car?

It was two guys with a shotgun.

They went west. They just left.

Fuck!

Who's that other guy?

Can you make sense of
any of any of this?

Not yet.

Whoo!

Let's go!

Whoo! Whoo!

Let's hit the Galaxie first.

I was just thinking that.

Well, there's more than one.

You think you're gonna...

Oh, fuck.

One down, uno mas.

-Pull over!
-Now!

Okay! Okay! Okay.

Listen. Listen.

Listen to me. I was just
going for a little ride. I...

-Here you are.
-Run.

Appear to be getting more...

I tried to deal with...

you can't...
believe... imagine...

and I believe a
man named Xavier...

Stop.

Holy shit.

What?

That kid you were with is going
to have a hell of a headache.

He'll be all right.

So what do you say?

We got a deal?

Mad Raoul does like cars.

He would dig this one.

What are you gonna
do about your boss?

I'll come up with something.

But at least I get to
live to fight another day.

What do you say?

We got a deal?

I hope I never see you again.

Feeling's mutual.

Expose Xavier and his network,

and until then trust no one.

Fuck.

Fuck.