Original subtitles

(Electricity crackling)

Announcer: Fargo.

All new wednesdays at 10:00.

On fx.

Woman: Son of a bitch!

Woman (Announcing): Fxx presents Archer.

(Schnuckiputzi purring)

So, uh, what are we doing?

Are we just jumping right into this,

or what's the deal?

(krieger whistling) (Door opens)

(Growls)

Alrighty! And how's our patient?

And, follow up, where is our patient? (Meows)

Meaning? (Meows)

Okay, you know what?

You're about as helpful as tits on a--

(yells) You!

(Meows) Look what you've done to me!

(Hoarse voice): Yeah, right? I'm a monster!

You're a miracle! You didn't even have feet!

Now look at you, walking around on new legs,

with hands that can crush steel--

(high-pitched voice): And, I mean, don't try it right now, obviously, but--

(gasping) Look at me!

I'm a goddamn freak!

And I don't know who I'm gonna kill first,

you or that son of a bitch len trexler.

Well, first of all, it's "whom."

Uh, no, it isn't.

It absolutely is. Doesn't matter.

But if it'll help you decide,

this serum, which is sort of the key to the whole deal,

I call factor-k.

And? And your body will reject its new components,

and you will die in agony,

unless you get an injection of it.

Wha-- well, give it here, shitbeard.

Uhh! Goddamn it.

Ow. Okay, that kind of hurt,

and I'm already in a pretty bad mood,

so I'm gonna kill you first.

So, any last words?

Every 12 hours.

Cryptic. Nice.

Usually people just blubber and beg,

and those big gloobs of snot run outta their nose, but you--

if you don't get a shot of factor-k every 12 hours,

you will die.

Bullshit. Which-- and that's fair, but--

let me guess.

You're only gonna make enough for one injection at a time.

(Chuckling) Well, I am now.

Goddamn it! Yeah, so, like an insurance policy.

How long does it take you to make it? I don't know. An hour?

Well, then, I guess I'll wake you up in about 11 hours.

Wake me-- (Grunts) (Body thuds)

What the-- are you...

Dreamland... has a whole goddamn

Nazi robot farm in the basement.

In this economy!

Figgis: Hello?

Hello! Son of a--

hang on. (Lighter clicks)

What the-- oh, for the love of cocks!

(Sighs) I mean, seriously, just...

Goddamn it.

� �

hello! Can anybody hear me?

Man, that thing is outta control.

Hello! Hello!

Somebody! Hey! (Flame whooshes)

What the-- no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Help! My pubes! (Sobbing) (Thudding)

My goddamn pubes are on fire!

(Muffled) All right. I guess let him out.

Now that second lunch is ruined.

(Sobbing, yelling) (Coughing)

Aw, man! Some of it got in my mouth.

(Scoffs) How long was I in there?

How should I know?

Usually dead people don't just climb out of these drawers

with their big bushy birds on fire,

so for all I know, you're that zombie

that got walked with! That what?

In the movie I walked with a zombie. The zombie titular.

I'm not a goddamn--

I am lieutenant cyril figgis, LAPD, you sentient shit-sacks!

I showed you my shield! And if you'd show it to me again--

I don't-- whoever hit me took it.

(Gasps) Goddamn it! And my service weapon!

And yet they left you your lighter.

Wait. When I got pistol-whipped, i was talking to an English guy.

We don't have an English guy.

I-- you have to remember me!

Uh, actually, I don't. And also, I don't, so--

oh, you think you're pretty smart, huh? I mean, smart enough to know

you cut a finger off one of my cadavers-- which, ew.

And also gross abuse of a corpse, which is punishable by--

I know all about gross abuse of a corpse!

Yeah, that's kind of my whole point. (Growls)

As the lord our god himself is my witness,

upon the conclusion of my current business,

I shall return to this place

and visit upon you an apocalypse of such terror and destruction

that you will rue-- rue the very fact of your miserable birth!

I'll be here.

I actually won't. Well, unless it's before Friday.

Oh, yeah, that's right. What's it you're leaving to do?

Lumber inspector. Huh. Didn't know that was a thing.

That's because you have no vision.

This, Danny-- (Sniffs) This is your world.

Yeah.

Please, figgis, for your sake, tell me you're joking.

It's just a temporary setback,

but I am going to fix this, trust me.

That's the whole point. I don't trust you.

I wouldn't trust you to fix potato (Bleep) Salad!

You're probably one of those assholes

who puts relish in it!

I mean, first my whores, and now Charlotte vandertunt?

How many women can one man lose?

Oh, plus your wife. Would you--

oh! Mr. trexler,

I swear to god that I will get you your million dollars.

You know, you say that with the confidence of a man

who has a lot longer to live.

I-- (Click, dial tone)

How'd that go?

How do you think it went?

Not great. Ya think?

Yes.

Because while I was getting pistol-whipped

and shoved in a drawer at the morgue--

losing precious time, not to mention my gun and my shield--

you were supposed to find Charlotte vandertunt.

And, so, how did that go? (Pounds desk)

Also not great. But more importantly--

because we know Archer broke her out of jail,

and we know he's working for mother, so--

son of a bitch!

I bet she's gonna try to ransom Charlotte!

Wait. Shut up. "More importantly" what?

What is that smell? What is what smell?

(Sniffs) That. Smells like cuy.

What the hell is cuy? Roasted Guinea pig.

Huh? They blowtorch the hair right off of it.

It's like the national dish of Peru. (Sighs) Did--

or is it Ecuador? Did you--

which one's the native habitat of the spectacled bear?

Did-- wait. Shit. They both are.

Hang on. Uh, hey, let me see your service weapon.

Huh? Yeah. Here.

Now, Peru has the pisco sour, but--

did you find Charlotte vandertunt?

Tell me before, so help me god,

I put a bullet in your big fat stupid face!

(Clears throat) First of all, that's just hurtful.

(Gun cocks) And second of all,

it doesn't matter where she is, just where the ransom money is.

Hmm. Presumably with the vandertunts.

So all we gotta do is--

insinuate ourselves into this whole deal,

like we're there to help,

and steal the ransom during the exchange.

Yeah. It's a piece of piss.

Now, aren't you glad you didn't shoot me?

(Sighs) For now.

Although I'm sure at some point

I'll regret that decision, so--

why is there blood on the barrel?

What? No. That's, um, hot sauce.

Well, why is there hot sauce on it?

With a couple of hairs stuck in it.

Oh, sweet Christ. What?

Did you beat a Guinea pig to death

with your service weapon,

slather the thing in hot sauce and eat it?

Yep!

Well, I officially regret my decision.

(Chuckling) Man, I almost always do.

(Gong bangs) (Chattering in Chinese)

Hey! Who keeps leaving the goddamn seat down?

Looking your way, huizhong.

Poovey: So, how are we gonna play this with the vandertunts?

We're gonna play it that you keep your fat mouth shut--

again, hurtful. ...While I explain to them

that the cavalry is finally here.

Yes, it's right here, as per your demand--

a million dollars in unmarked, untraceable

20, 50, and 100-dollar bills.

Okay. Good. Good. That's--

sheer idiocy on your part, frankly.

I'm sorry? As well you should be.

What do you-- i mean, including the bag,

which, by the way, was a gift,

the whole thing must weigh a good 50 pounds.

Well, too bad. I-- i mean, an envelope

with a hundred sammies would've been so much easier.

A hundred what? Sammies.

After salmon p. Chase,

the man on the $10,000 bill?

Well, what the hell am I supposed to do

with a $10,000 bill?

Well, what does one do with a twenty-dollar bill?

Buy a single orange? That's--

just make sure the money's at the drop by midnight,

and that you follow my instructions to the letter.

Mmm, like a reverse scavenger hunt. (Sighs)

And once we have the money,

we'll arrange for the return of your sister.

Oh, right. Yes. Sorry. I forgot that part.

And that's a firm firm? Yes.

And no cops, at all, anywhere.

No police. Also a firm firm?

Yes, it's a firm firm! Wait. Why?

What? I-- I don't know. No reason.

I'm sorry. This is my first kidnapping.

Well-- (In spooky voice): Or is it?

(Evil chuckle) Jesus Christ.

(Click, dial tone) Ciao! Alrighty, then.

Who's for cuy?

(Figgis yells, gags)

(Muffled gag)

(Sniffs) Yes,

that's probably why you smell burnt hair.

But don't judge them by their looks.

They may seem appalling... (Chomping)

But trust me, they're quite delicious.

(In spooky voice) Yes, delicious.

Like all taboos.

(Muffled): You're frickin' weird.

I mean, just weird. Lana: What is?

(Gasps) Lana! Uh, I mean, miss Kane.

I-- I mean, uh-- "Lana" is fine.

I'll say. You'll say what?

Nothing. Ah. A man of mystery.

Well, you know, mainly in the sense

that I try to solve them, you know--

on your own. Well, yeah.

I mean, since my partner died.

Which I actually should really-- i meant without the police.

Without the who now?

"No cops, at all, anywhere,"

I believe were your exact words.

My exac-- were you eavesdropping on me?

Yes.

Did you have a follow-up to that, or--

no, actually, because you caught me

totally off guard by not denying it.

But how much of that did you hear?

Depends. What's your angle, shamus?

(Chuckling) Well, uh, probably about 30 degrees.

(Rimshot) Gillette: Diminishing returns, cliff!

But I'm not working any angle, so--

so, then, you wouldn't need any help?

No, i-- why are you so interested? No reason.

Just thought maybe you could make it worth my while.

Well, i-- I can't, so--

what if I made it worth your while?

Umm...

No.

No what? Wait. What?

What? At the club, i said, "umm,"

and then I was gonna say, "no,"

but then you didn't let me finish.

Oh, you finished, all right. Yeah. Maybe try woolite?

Which, by the way, makes one of us!

Oh, please! Wait. Seriously? Get out.

'Cause I'd be happy to, you know--

get-- (Chuckles) ...St-stay and watch you finish.

...out! Jesus!

Look, if you-- ehh!

(Sighs) Great.

Now I have no liquor.

Just a big fat pair of blue lady-balls.

Torrent downloaded from RARBG

(Speaking German) (Meows, purrs)

(Spits, groans) That's my mouth! (Whining)

Get outta here! (Spits) Oh!

(Spits) If I wanted your asshole on my mouth,

I'd do it while you were asleep!

Which we've never talked about, but-- ow!

My face! How long was I out?

(Meows) Oh, that helps.

Man, I gotta warn trexler Dutch wants to kill him.

Mainly because trexler hasn't paid me for my work yet,

but also because--

say what you will about der robotik ubermenschen.

Sure can punch good.

(Man laughing) I'm sorry, darlin',

but you're gonna have to repeat that.

(Clears throat) I said,

"i had a little towel,

"but I lost it walking here,

so I need your clothes, your boots,

and your motorcycle."

(Laughter) Oh, is that all?

Yeah. That oughta do it.

You, uh, sure you don't need me to, uh, check your oil?

(Laughter)

Oh, okay. And by that remark,

I assume you're referring either to my robotic limbs

or offering to plunge your finger,

and/or penis, into my anus.

(Men) Ohhh! I'll plunge my fist into your--

(chuckles) Were you gonna say "anus"?

(Bones crack) (Screaming)

'Cause a finger's one thing.

But a whole fist? Aaahhh!

That's like... (Yelling)

I just never understood that.

(Crying out)

And I'm not trying to judge. (Grunting)

But it's like, at some point, you gotta question your choices.

(Yells)

Whoo!

I don't know. If it's two consenting adults, (Zipper zips up)

I'm like, "live and let live."

But if you want me to let you live, chief,

I'm gonna need those keys.

Here. (Whimpers) Take 'em!

Hey, thanks.

Oh, and if turns out you lose that arm,

just give me a call.

(Chuckles) I got a guy.

He what?

Uh, is going to kill you. Was I not--

what are you talking about?

Why? Stop it!

What, I should be calm when you tell me

a goddamn robot wants to kill me?

No, not you. Wha-- wha-- then who?

No. Sorry. You. He wants to kill you.

The good news is, without my help,

he'll be dead in... Ten hours.

Okay, well, my house is a fortress.

I got a ton of guys. We'll outlast him.

Yeah. You say that...

Feels pretty good, huh, Dutch? (Chuckles)

Yes, it does, other Dutch. Yes, it does.

(Sighs) Goddamn it.

Mother: I think you're confused, doll.

Charlotte: I am not in the least confused!

I don't care if my family does pay the ransom.

I'm not going back there!

I meant you were confused about me caring

what you did after the payoff.

You're not planning to blindfold me

and hide me in a bomb shelter

with limited oxygen and send my family cryptic notes

about how to find me in a race against time for my life?

Who are you, collective pseudonym Carolyn keene?

What? Who would go to all that trouble?

Johann schmidt, aka the red skull,

in my Nazi kidnap-slash-rape fantasy.

(Growls) Ew!

Right? Shut up.

Look, tonight your brother is going to drop

the ransom money at the Griffith observatory.

Archer is going to retrieve it and bring it to me.

And if nobody screws up,

once I have the money, you're free to go.

Well, but that's my whole point.

(Sobs) Go where?

(Growls) Who knows? Maybe a handsome

young Nazi scientist will take you in. (Door opens)

Do what now? (Gasps) What the hell are you doing?

Just filling the coolers with ice.

You know, normal bartendery stuff.

Oh, so suddenly you work here again? I--

what happened to your face? I--

did someone catch you snooping? (Zerk growls)

Uh, no, I walked into a door... Repeatedly.

Oh, yeah. My mother used to do that.

Well, you better not have been snooping on me, mister.

Are you-- pfft! Come on! I wouldn't do that!

(Quietly): So, Archer's the bagman for a kidnapping, huh?

Okay, then.

Because you know what happens to snoops.

They get... poops? What?

Cecil: It's just that the kidnappers

were extremely clear on that point.

No police, at all, anywhere.

Well, of course they're gonna say that, but trust me--

I trust him. He brought me a finger.

(Chomping)

(Sighs) Only you. What?

All I had today was some cuy. (Gulps)

Oh, and congee.

Oh, and a bunch of salted duck eggs.

Look, we'll be right behind you,

so just follow their instructions,

drop the ransom off, and with a bit of luck,

we'll get it and the kidnappers.

Okay, but I have a bad feeling about this. (Engine starts)

Well, I don't care.

Hmm. Fair enough.

Do you wanna go? (Belches)

(Hot dog thuds)

Archer: I thought I made it pretty clear to the little weirdo

that I didn't wanna see any cops near the drop.

I guess you can't blame the guy for trying.

Plus, it's not like I can't handle figgis and poovey.

But I may have to wait them out.

Whatever. You paid for an hour.

Well, that's my whole point.

It may take a lot longer than an hour--

well-- and I'm not paying you any extra.

What? But feel free to hike the five miles

back to sunset in those heels.

What the hell? Who brings a hooker?

Cecil (Quietly): Okay. Here's the topiary garden. (Car door opens, closes)

Which I wish I could buy it so i could burn it to the ground.

Topiary. My god, what rubbish.

Shrubbish! (Laughs)

So freakin' weird. Cecil: Hmm.

Well, I suppose that looks like a mushroom.

What? It's clearly a mushroom.

Well, then... (Grunts)

(Loudly): All right, then. I'm off.

Alone, as I arrived, with no police anywhere!

(Sighs) I mean...

Seriously.

Okay, Archer. It's your move.

(Car engine starts) Damn it. I gotta at least tip her.

This is definitely gonna take longer than an hour. (Car departs)

Man, I wish I had a--

smoke grenade? What the shit?

Poovey (Coughing): Goddamn it!

Figgis: Will you come on?

No, no, no, no, no, no!

God...Damn it! (Car departs)

(Sighs) I guess it's not his move.

(Engine starts) (Screams) Jesus!

Sorry. Here. Take these.

What the hell are these for?

Um, I guess, parting gifts?

What? I don't know. Maybe you can sell 'em or whatever.

Because, listen, this car chase is gonna get a little crazy--

well, then, let me out! Stop the car!

Let me finish! Because my point is,

I don't really have time to stop.

(Screaming) But I'm not gonna have that,

so I'm gonna need you to kind of jump out.

Are you nuts? I'll slow down a little, obviously,

but when you hit the ground, (Screams)

You're gonna wanna kind of roll.

(Grunts) (Body thudding)

Yeah, just like that! Good instincts!

Asshole!

Seriously!

Figgis: They're gaining on us! Step on it!

Trust me, it's totally stepped on!

Oh, son of a... (Cocks gun)

Oh, shit.

(Gunshots) (Tires screeching)

(Yells) Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no!

(Engine sputters, stops)

(Sighs) Goddamn it.

Did ya get 'em?

No. I got somebody, though.

(Laughing) Wow. Good policin'.

(Cocks gun) Shut up.

Son of a... (Tires screeching)

No, no, no, no, no, no!

(Crashing)

(Crashing stops)

(Coughing) Oh, goddamn it.

(Crash)

So...

How was your evening?

(Clears throat) Uh, not g-great.

(Growls)

(Knuckles crack)

And I assume about to get worse.

� �

man: Made in Georgia.

Captioned by media access group at wgbh

man: Dateline, Los Angeles, California, 1947.

Forecast: It's going to rain...

Lead!

(Sinister laughing)

So you're just-- (Groans) Straight-up crazy.

(Blows raspberry)

Archer: Dreamland. All new wednesdays at 10:00.

On fxx.

It's gonna take an hour at this time.

Wow, look at Stan's yard.

Someone's been busy. (Laughs)

Clearly not in ours. Maybe Henry can do some work today.

Yeah.

I forget your back is always bad this time of year.

Only when there are leaves--

when did you wash this last?

The Americans. (Engine starts)

All new Tuesdays at 10:00. On fx.

(Wind whistling)

(Footsteps crunching) (Man grunting)

(Gunshots)

(Hissing, squeaking)

Announcer: Fargo. All-new wednesdays at 10:00 on fx.

Man: I'm getting paid to learn how to run a business,

do things when I want and how I want,

get paid more than some office job.

I got freedom.

(Siren wailing)

Freedom from all of it.

(Dog barking)

(Siren wailing continues)

(Man exhales)

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