All language subtitles for The Middleman (2008) S01E12 The Palindrome Reversal Palindrome

OK. Let's clear the boards
and start again.

Three days ago an unknown criminal
stole a beryllium sphere

from a maximum security
medical facility.

Two days later,
the same man nabbed

an oscillation
overthruster from DARPA's

Midwestern Autolab.

And he left these.

An etched-mirror pictogram at
each of the crime scenes.

If we don't crack this, we're gonna
wind up manacled to a doomsday device

while a friendly female voice counts
down the seconds to detonation.

Does this scenario involve me
wearing a bikini again?

Not necessarily, but it will involve
a carefully worded monologue

which will be the last thing we hear.
Which is why the situation requires...

That I watch you meat clowns beat
your brains for 11 hours straight?

That you complete your search

across the
Obscure Crimes Database.

Oh, button your onesie.
OCD says 1,012
possible scenarios.

One thousand twelve's just too big a
number. Our criminal's leaving us clues

because he needs someone
to understand his masterwork.

He wants us to figure out
his dastardly scheme.

All we need to do
is turn up the gray matter.

Remember, there are
no stupid ideas.

A man with a light bulb
on mirrors.

Which can't help but reflect
your true self. I've got it.

Our mastermind is none other than the
great-great grandson of Nikola Tesla.

Driven mad by accounts that Edison
robbed Tesla of his greatest inventions,

he intends to resurrect Edison, so as
to force the confession that Tesla,

rather than Edison,
truly invented the light bulb.

Wow. Imagine the pearls we'll be
dropping in another 11 hours.

All right. Point taken.
I'm calling it.

- You are?
- Dubbie, your instincts are on point.

Sometimes putting your nose to the
grindstone just gives you a bloody nose.

Go enjoy the soothing balm
of your date with Tyler.

Well, what about you?

Ida, why don't we run
one more theory up the flagpole?

Ida?

Uh...

Vintage Game Boy. Impressive.

And what tiny cartridge beasties are
we slaying on this twinkly-lit eve?

Those would be the beasties
of Castlevania Legends.

I'm not gonna lie to you,
some of them are subbing
for boyfriends

who stand up their
dates for three hours.

Grayscale dot matrix
relationship voodoo... nice.

- So, you want a cold pocket?
- Oh, for the love of...
You cooked, too?

Hot Pockets are
the American empanada.

So, can we start the groveling
apology part of the evening now?

Tyler, you told me that you
loved that I had a job
I was good at.

And I'd be a pretty awful
girlfriend if I didn't feel
the same way about you, right?

I brought a bribe.

Fork it over.

Wow. It's a tennis bracelet.

A diamond tennis bracelet.

You can stay your inner Lacey.
The diamonds are lab grown.

Completely conflict-free.

Thank you, Tyler. I guess I'll
go take a tennis lesson or two.

Look, I know, it's not you.

Maybe I wasted too much
of my childhood in Panama

watching badly-dubbed reruns
of Dallas.

Well, who didn't want to know
�qui�n le dispar� a J.R.?

But seriously, I have always
fantasized about being able
to buy my lady diamonds.

I hope you like it.

Seeing as how it's completely
your fault I got it for you.

Because I kinda love you,
Wendy Watson.

Really? You kinda love me?

That was an unfortunate turn of
phrase. I meant to say I love you.

Well, in that case, I kinda
love you too, Tyler Ford.

- Just this one call, then
the watch and the Bluetooth...
- Taking a nap in the freezer.

Dubbie, it is I, the Middleman.

Really? Calling me on the
Middlewatch that only we have?

I was thinking, mirrors.

What if he's creating some sort
of massive infinity mirror

to reflect, and in doing so,
trap all light
and mankind inside?

Uh, boss, can you hang on a sec?

Gotta go clean my nose
off this bloody grindstone.

Oh, poop.
Enjoy your date, Dubbie.

- Wendy...
- Oh, no.

I know that look.
I'm usually the one
giving that look.

I'm so sorry.
That was Manservant Neville.

Apparently there's a crisis
with our One uMaster
Per Child Initiative.

It involves train routes
and an angry Malaysian
regional governor.

My boss is sending someone
to pick me up.

This is sucktacular.
They're downtown, right?

At least we have
a few minutes to do this.

And this.

I don't know about that.

But we may have some time
to do this.

What the hell is that?

Oh, man.
Oh, it's Manservant Neville.

Your boss?
You've got to be kidding me.

Tyler, hurry!

We're landing on the roof.

I'll call you tomorrow.

Oh, my God.
Are you crying?

No... just a little.

And what did you say?

I said,
"I kinda love you, too."

At least I think I did.

Pretty hard to hear
over the thunderous din
of rotating airfoils.

Come on, Dub-Dub.

I know last night may have been

a different kind
of whirlwind of excitement,

- but these things happen.
- Really?

How many dates have you had
unfold like the second act
of Miss Saigon?

You're in love!
You should be
dancing and singing,

with little animated mice
running up your hand.

Well, what if
Fatboy changes him?

He used to be a musician.
What if he turns into
Tennis Bracelet Guy full time?

What if he starts
calling people "Bubby"

and has some assistant named
Ingrid call and cancel
our anniversary plans

because he's detained
in Papua, New Guinea
with Manservant Neville

because he's been rolling out
the uMaster to a
forward-thinking cannibal tribe.

- Not seeing it.
- It could happen.

I went through the same thing
when you started your job.

Ask Noser. And look, you're
still the same old Dub-Dub.

I just had to be flexible
and manage my expectations.

Ew! What's that
supposed to mean?

It means I've taken a few eggs
out of my Wendy basket.

I make back-up plans.

Yet, our Wonder Twin powers
are still intact.

I don't know.

I can't shake the feeling that
I'm gonna kiss Matt Damon in
The Bourne Identity good night

and wake up to Matt Damon
in The Good Shepherd.

Didn't his girlfriend die
in The Bourne Supremacy?

Yeah, but he really loved her.

And Tyler really loves you.

It's his circumstances that
have changed, not who he is.

Shoot.

- I gotta...
- Go to work.

- I get it.
- Just circumstances, right?

Our near maniac's managed
to strike again,

this time at
a manufacturer of merriment.

Who steals a beryllium sphere
and an oscillation overthruster
then hits a toy factory?

Today we're grief counselors
with the United States
Police Force.

You're Officer Russell,
I'm Officer Van Cleef.

Oh. I gotta grab this.

- Hey.
- Look, about last night,

I... I'm just sorry, that's all.

- I called to say I'm sorry.
- Tyler, I get it.

You can't exactly control
all the circumstances
of your job.

Yeah, I know, but I don't want
you to think I'm turning into
Tennis Bracelet Guy.

- Tennis Bracelet Guy?
- You know, the guy who throws
fancy baubles at his girl

to make up for the fact
that he's not even
in the relationship.

Keep going like we are, pretty
soon you'd run through all
the racquet sport-based jewelry.

I meant the things
I said last night, Wendy.

So did I.

And, hey, it's not like
I have the world's
least demanding job, either.

So, what do you say that you and I set
aside a block of Wendy and Tyler time

that cannot be touched,
like tonight?

And if Manservant Neville calls,I will tell
him that he can find himself a new assistant.

And what do you say you and I pick up
right before I Airwolf'ed off the roof?

I'd say tonight sounds... great.

Um... it's gonna have to
be tomorrow night.

- I love you, Wendy Watson.
- And I'm sitting next to my boss.

Mama. Mama.

That's not gonna give me J-Horror
nightmares for the rest of my life.

Who steals baby eyes?
She was so sweet.

Now she's blind.
They're all blind.

- Mama, Mama.
- I don't get it.

I work hard.
I support a wife, an ex-wife.

Two ingrate kids.I went green before
Ed Begley, Jr. made it cool.

Why can't I cut a break?

What about me?

Sir, I realize you're in
a precarious emotional state,

Sometimes it helps with grief

to talk through the trauma.

Now, I understand
you found a mirror?

Looks like a river.

So, he steals
100,000 toy eyeballs
and leaves this.

A man, a light bulb
and a river.

Maybe his plan is
to confuse the hell out of us.

A plan?
Dubbie, a man, a plan!

Not a river, but a canal.

A man, a plan,
a canal... Panama.

The perfect palindrome.
Same phrase forward,
same phrase backwards.

- Who leaves a palindrome?
- Typical super-villain
horse feathers.

Can't wait to hear
this guy's monologue.

"I'm The Palindrome.
Feel my power.

Power my feel.
Palindrome the am I."

Peter Piping weirdoes.

But why the eyes this time?

They don't seem all that
nefarious on their own.

Wait a minute.

Hey, Sob Story.

These eyes, you wouldn't happen
to know if they're made out
of something special, would you?

Like I said, I'm green. The eyes
are polydichloric euthimal.

Non-toxic, biodegradable,
safe...

Eyes Without a Face!
Polydichloric euthimal?
You fool!

Do you have any idea
what you've done?

What kind of grief counselors
are you?

Ida, run the following
through OCD.

Our villain, shall we call him
The Palindrome,

has a beryllium sphere,
an oscillation overthruster

and now a near limitless supply
of polydichloric euthimal.

Got it.
Uh-oh.

OCD's talking
and it's talking crazy.

Then it's as I feared.

Throw in a sufficient
power source

and The Palindrome will
have everything to activate...

A Quantum Singularity Machine.

Sorry I popped my cork
back there,

but this is a sack full
of eels and coat hangers.

The Palindrome has the power
to open a mini black hole.

Like the kind that eats socks
in the dryer?

The kind connecting
different worlds

and parallel dimensions.

My little pony.

If The Palindrome lifts up
the space-time
continuum's petticoats

we'll all be trussed up
but good.

Ida, jump on the HEYDAR

and search for power spikes
exceeding 1.012 gigawatts.

What is this,
my first school play?

I already got an address.

Dubbie, it's the fourth mirror.

That's not even Panama.
that's just a hat.

I swear, even if he's not
opening a Quantum Singularity,

I'm still smoking this guy
on principle.

There he is.

House of Pancakes.

The Quantum Singularity
Machine's powering up.

Can't we just shoot him?

You smell that?

Ionized polydichloric
euthimal gas.

We discharge our weapons,
the entire place goes Vesuvius.

- Right.
- All right.

I confront him, get him off on
the monologue, you go around...

Switch off the machine
while he's distracted?

Dang skippy. Break.

So, you thought you'd
get away with it.

I get it. You shoot, I die.

I shoot, you die.

I'm willing to die, are you?

So, uh, Mr. Palindrome,

maybe you'd like to tell me
why you're doing this?

- No.
- Really?

No twisted evil plan you'd like
to get off your chest?

No tale of childhood humiliation
you need to share

in order to elucidate
the path of pure darkness

that brought us to this
inevitable Manichaean showdown?

- Shut up!
- It doesn't make sense.

Why set an elaborate clue trail
if you have nothing to say
when you're found?

Dubbie, look out!

Boss? Boss!

It's me. I don't know
if you can hear me,

but I got sucked in and I'm in hot
pursuit of Johnny Won't Monologue.

So, if you're here, now would be
a good time to say something.

The world is one family.

We are all sons and daughters,
brothers and sisters.

The people united,

obedient and loyal to the aims
of society that works.

I believe in you, my children,
and all I ask in return
is that you believe in me.

As your father,
your architect,

your first among equals.

Remember, Manservant Neville
serves you.

The world is one family.

We are all sons and daughters,
brothers and sisters, united.

- Sorry.
- Hey.

No cutting.
End of the line.

Line? Line for what?

For your daily spray
of soup, maggot.

I don't want a spray of soup.

Can I have her soup?

Shut up, worm.

Got a fighter, huh?

Where's your i.d.?
You know the penalty.

Your Fatboy i.d.
Where is it?

Sound the alarm.
We've got an unidentified!

Shoot to kill!

I believe in you, my children.
All I ask in return...

Second level clear.

Two-ten status update.

I think I heard something.

Bravo Team, any visual
confirmation on unidentified?

Assemble for the Pledge!

Assemble for the Pledge!

Hey, boss? I don't know
if you're getting this,

but remember when you said the Singularity
might lead to a parallel universe?

Well, it did.

I'm pretty much trapped...

...in Alan Parker's 1982 theatrical
film version of The Wall.

One corporation
above all men...

Finding a place to hide from the roaming
death squads is a top priority.

Oh, and also,

I want a raise.

- Who's the man?
- Noser. Thank god.

I said, "Who's the man!"

Um... that would be Shaft?

What kind of man?

Uh...complicated man?

- Who understands him?
- Noser, please.

- Answer me now!
- No one but his woman.

Right on.

You can go in.

Of course. Why wouldn't my living room
be an exotic dancer lounge?

- Hasenpfeffer?
- Excuse me?

Rabbit stew.
Lacey's secret recipe.

- Best lunch buffet in town.
- Joe.

Joe 90, Esquire.
Attorney to Fatboy.

Yeah, Bubby, I've got
a high security clearance.

You don't know me, do you?

Ugh.

- Feisty.
- Let's go up to
the champagne room,

- see if we can change that.
- Wendy Watson!

I always knew someday
you'd come walking back
through my door.

Lacey!
Ow!

That's for my first year
in Fatboy darning camp!

- Darning camp?
- Yeah.

Storm trooper socks
and underwear?

And this is for my second year!

- God, stop, wait.
- Cat fight!

- You abandoned me.
- No, I would never.

Then what do you call it?

Freshman year of art school,
Fatboy takes over

and turns it into
management training school.

- That's horrible.
- Back-stabbing

Look, just calm down.

You were supposed to meet me
at the protest rally,
but you sold me out, Dub-Dub.

Took that job over at Fatboy
and got me arrested.

Now look at me.
Noser, throw her out!

Lacey, I swear, that wasn't me.

I haven't seen your face
in five years, Wendy Watson.

And I never need
to see it again!

Let me go, Noser.
I know the way out.

Fatboy!

Man, I hate these guys.

- Shoot to kill.
- Die, pigs!

Fatboy can't know I was here.
They'll pull my clearance.

- Then help me.
- An unidentified?

You kidding?
Sayonara, Bubby.

There she is. Get her!

- Come with me if you want to live.
- Medic! Get a medic!

Thanks, man. I flashed all the way to my
quincea�era before you swooped in.

I heard an unidentified was
in danger in Theta Sector and...

Pip!

You know me? Forgive me.

I take great care
to know all my parishioners.

Wait. You're...

You're telling me
that you're Father Pip?

A man of the cloth?

- Celibate?
- I can get you out of the city,
my child.

Safe from Fatboy.
Of course, there are risks.

We both might not make it.

You're telling me
that you, Pip,

a priest,

are willing to risk
your life for me?

- We're all children
of the Lord.
- I'm in the mirror universe.

I'm sorry?
The mirror universe?

The parallel universe, where
everyone who's good is evil
and evil is good.

It's like that episode
of Star Trek

where Spock had a goatee
and Chekhov tried to...

Star Trek?

You mean the sci-fi series
from the '60s

starring the great George Takei?

It is an evil universe.

Look, I need you
to take me to see someone.

There's a man in my world,
someone so good,

so "aw shucks" wholesome
that I just gotta believe
he's still the same man here.

'Cause if he's not I might
as well just take the fetal
position and pop in a thumb.

Where can I find
this balm in Gilead?

How many times are you gonna
watch that real-time situation
recording archive?

As many as it takes
to understand what happened
while I was knocked out

and where Wendy went.

Where are you?
What's with your suit?

Where's your beard?

The Palindrome goes
into the Singularity wearing
a black suit and a goatee.

And he exits the Singularity in a
light colored suit, sans facial hair.

Well, either
he shaved and changed,

or that's The Palindrome
from a parallel universe.

Wherever that man is, he has
a Quantum Singularity Machine.

If anyone knows where Wendy is,
it's he.

Come puppet blood,
monkey fudge or terracotta,
I'm getting her back.

Hey, state your business.

And make it snappy.
I'm working on my tan lines.

Ida? You're Ida.

Congratulations. That's
officially the least intelligent
thing I've heard all day.

Oh, yeah.
You're her, all right.

OK, well, this is not
gonna make a lot of sense,

but I went through
this Quantum Singularity...

You know, something
just occurred to me.

- What's that?
- I don't give a baboon's butt

about your complicated
back story.

Here's how it works.
If you got the cash,
we've got the action.

Save the rest of it
for your shrink.

What? Did your brain
separate from your body
in the Singularity?

Get a move on!

Hey. I found this one
crying in the lobby.

I'll be over here exalting
in the fact I can't get cancer.

Shut it before I throw
a hook in it.

They're real
and they're spectacular.

Nice bike.
Hello?

Earth to man in chaps.

It's not a bike.

It's the Middlehog.

- Oh.
- Let me guess.

You're a Middleman-in-training
from a parallel universe.

You were chasing
an A-number one nut job

when he opened up
a Quantum Singularity
to this world,

inadvertently pulling you
through with him.

Now little Dorothy just wants
to get back home.

- How'd you guess?
- Classic gun strapped
to that pretty leg of yours.

Gives you away immediately
as a Middle-trainee.

I meant the Quantum
Singularity part.

The HEYDAR chimed
that there was a rip in
space time near the soup lines.

And you didn't investigate?

It's none of my business.

- It is now.
- Sorry.

Mirror sidekick or not,
I'm just The Middleman.

- I don't lift a finger
till you give me my chubbies.
- Excuse me?

Chubbies. Oinkers.

Piggies.

- Cash, money.
- Oh. Money, I have.

Yeah, right!

Guess your world's ain't down
with the sickness.

Meet Mr. Chubby.

Ever since Fatboy won
the Battle of D.C.,

these little pink freaks have
served as official currency.

So, unless you got
something else to sell,

- Ida shows you the door.
- How can you call yourself
The Middleman?

Charging people who need help?

- You make me want to puke.
- Puke all you want, sidecar.

This is the United States
of Fatboy, baby.

Love it or hate it,
everyone sings for their supper.

You can't pay,
you're out of luck.

Wow. Profanity really
does cheapen the soul
and weaken the mind.

Does this feed the greed?

Nicely.

Ida, fire up the HEYDAR.

Middlechick just bought herself
a partner.

I have an i.d. on the man
in the real-time situation
recording archive.

His name is Ivan Avi.

His home address:
1997 Plissken Circle.

I hacked Fatboy Surveillance
and found an ID of the man
who left that power plant

with the Quantum
Singularity Machine.

His name is Ivan Avi.

His home address is
1997 Plissken Circle.

Let's get to it.

Sir, you may want to freeze.

Grab ankle.

You'll never make me go back
to that horrible place!

- Put down the machine.
- Please, I just want
my partner back.

- Ah,
- Oh, phooey.

I'm never going back again,
never. Not on my life!

All I'm interested in is your
Quantum Singularity Machine.

If I wanted to build another,
could it be done?

I just want your Quantum
Singularity Machine.

Can I build one, or what?

Sure, if you could get your
hands on a medical-grade
sphere of beryllium

and a one-of-a-kind
oscillation overthruster.

Maniacal laughter.
Didn't see that one coming.

I'm a patient man, Mr. Avi,
if that's your name.

But this old fishing line's
reached its breaking strain.

My partner's trapped
on the other side
of that Quantum Singularity

and you're going to tell me
how to get her.

Hold on. Did you say
someone's trapped in my world?
But that's horrible.

I mean it. It was supposed to
be a one-for-one Ivan exchange.

Exchange. Jimmy crack corn.

See, our plan was sheer elegance
in its simplicity.

Save it.
Just help me understand.

I was born an orphan
in a world much like this,

only as if reflected
through a dark mirror.

That's why The Palindrome
left those mirrors.

Oh no, that was my idea.
I always wanted to be an artist.

But I was born into
an evil world,

skies choked with ammonia,
seas full of benzene,

baby farms,
random suffocations, bears.

- Oh.
- All of it run
by Fatboy Industries.

Even as a boy, I knew I didn't
belong. And then I turned 13.

During a freak limbo accident
at my Bar Mitzvah party,
I severed my pineal gland.

That's when I began having
psychic visions
of a parallel world,

with antitrust laws,
lead-free toys,
non-aerosolized soup.

I soon realized
I was seeing through the eyes
of my mirror-self,

a wicked boy
equally trapped in your world

who also lost his pineal gland
in a freak accident.

And I can see which one of you
got the monologue gene.

Over time we learned
to communicate.
Pooling our talents,

we each built a Quantum
Singularity Machine
so we might switch places.

That's all. I never meant
to involve your friend.

Your Quantum
Singularity Machine.

If it can't be rebuilt,
can its effects at least
be replicated?

Well, my mirror-universe self
and I designed it
to simulate the effect

of firing a phased polaron
cannon at a black hole
in outer space

from both universes
simultaneously.

Theoretically, if you and your
partner were to stand in the
same place, at the same time,

and fire a phased polaron cannon
at the exact same point
in the sky...

Sounds like we have a plan.

But no, no, it won't work.

Nobody, and I mean nobody,
has a phased polaron cannon.

I do. In my weapons archive.

- But that's impossible. Niels
Bohr died while building it...
- In 1962.

Ah, Bohr, he's anything but.

You should see the Christmas card
he sent me last year. What a gas.

Ida, I need coordinates for the nearest
black hole in our corner of the night sky.

If your universe
truly mirrors mine,

my counterpart should also have
a phased polaron cannon.

Is there any way to get a message to
my partner, Wendy, through your twin?

Of course,
we're psychically linked.

Good.

Ahhh.

He's in this room.
He's in this room right now
with your partner.

Ohhhh!

He's in pain.

- That was me asking nicely.
- OK. That's enough. Stop it.

Last time I tried
that move on Sensei Ping
he plucked out my eye.

Holy Kill Bill: Volume 2.

Sensei Ping put out
your eye? Why?

Maybe because
he's a psychotic

- 'Course he got his
at the dread pyramid of...
- Itzilichlitlichlitzl?

- You didn't save him?
- Save him?

I'm the one who dropped
the dime with the Luchadores.

You're sick.

I have a message for Dubbie.

- That's what my boss calls me.
What is it?
- He says, "Dubbie,

fire the phase polaron cannon

at coordinates ascension
16 hours, 3 minutes, 32 seconds,

declination 9.483 degrees

from the geographical center
of the city

- at precisely 9:29pm tonight.
- Can you tell my boss I'm OK?

Oh, wait. There's more.
Come closer.

OK. Now you're gonna let me go
or the girl dies.

Ivan, Ivan, did Wendy
get the message?

I don't know.

But my brother, he...
He's dead.

Did you lose a chunk of brain
with that eye?

It had to be done, sweetheart.

You straight up murdered
the one guy

who could communicate
with my world.

Same guy who had a gun
to your throat.

I could have handled it.
I was trained by Sensei Ping,
same as you!

Look, if I have cause
to squeeze a trigger,
I'm not gonna pull my punch.

This isn't your world, Bubbles.

I don't step out my door each
morning into a field of lilacs
and candy canes.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it.

This is New Jack City.
Might makes right.
Blah, blah, blah.

Well, look what
it's gotten you.

Leather pants
and a fake-bake robot.

Hey, I'd use the sun
if I could see it.

Just get me the phased
polaron cannon and I'm gone.

Trust me, I would,
just to be rid of your yap.

But I sold it to Fatboy
Industries three years ago to
pay the rent on this grease pit.

Well, if you didn't have
a problem selling it
to the enemy,

then you're not gonna
have a problem helping me
steal it back.

Why don't I save us the trouble
and just pull this pin, huh?

Whoa, cowboy.
Her idea, not mine.

My advice? Fatboy bombed out
Delta Sector last week.

- Real estate
should be mighty cheap.
- You think I'm gonna stay here?

- Over suicide?
- I have people counting on me.

How can you hope
your gambit's gonna work?

I get to hope
because I fight for it.

Bet that sounded real pretty
in your head.

How can a man like you live in
the same skin and have the same
brain as my boss?

He wasn't always like this.

He used to be a real Middleman.

But then he died.

Who?

- Chief. I'm surrounded
by Fatboy agents.
- Tyler was the Middleboy?

Why'd you leave?

Chief?

Please. No!

Never found the trigger man.
The only clue was that
red anodized ray gun.

But if that phased
polaron cannon's anywhere,

it's in Manservant Neville's
private control room
at Fatboy Command,

leaving one question:
how are you gonna get it?

I need your help.

So, let me get this straight.

After five years, two of which
I spent learning more about
men's jockey shorts

than any woman has ever
wanted or intended,

you've come back
wanting me to help you
break into Fatboy Command?

I know how much you hate them.

This could be
your chance for revenge.

You've exactly ten seconds
to throw your into the street

before Noser does it for you!

Well, don't you want
to hear my offer?

- What could you possibly offer?
- Something I know
I couldn't give you before.

An apology.

I need you to listen.

Because every time
you look at me I can see
how much I hurt you.

And I'm sure I had my reasons.

Everyone does.

But I can't think of
a single one that justifies

you being in that darning camp.

And I wish I could take back
all the pain that I caused you.

All I can do is say I'm sorry.

I wish I'd been stronger.

But I'm a different person now,

and I can't imagine a universe

where I don't need
your friendship.

There's no way
we're breaking in, you know.

Fatboy Command's
locked up tighter than
a public drinking fountain.

Then it's a good thing
you've got a man on the inside.

- Not enough Bunny for one day?
- What's with the thunderclouds,ladies?

There's plenty of Joe
to go around.

And you have
photographic evidence.

Oh, God.

They're gonna put me
in the beard.

Beard?

Standard Fatboy employee
torture protocol.

It always starts
with the beard of bees.

Just keep it together and you'll
have nothing to worry about.

- There any cameras
in this place?
- No.

Corporate policy. No cameras
allowed on Fatboy premises.

That girl's out there
without a Fatboy card.

She won't get far
if they haven't got her already.

- I don't care.
- You know, she reminds me of someone.

- Someone else you didn't help.
- I don't care.

She's going to storm
that fortress alone.

This is your chance.
You can make good again.

- Hey, Ida, news flash
coming up on the wire.
- Oh, no. What is it?

I don't care.

Then I quit.

Even this obstructed bowel
of a planet

doesn't deserve
a Middleman like you.

This is it. Manservant Neville's
private control room.

Sorry. I don't have a card
for this door.

Oh. There's just something hinky
about that combination.

Assault rifle, assault rifle,
futuristic metal thing.

That must be
the phased polaron cannon.

OK, good. Let's split.
This place is giving me
the Willy Wonkas.

Uh, Lace?

Oh, God.

- What's behind me?
- Just stay calm.

And don't turn around.

Man in a bag!

- Man in a bag!
- No, no, no. It's Manservant Neville.

Maybe I didn't read
my Fatbible close enough,

but isn't he supposed to be
in charge of this place?

- Well, nobody ever sees him
because he's so...
- Cryogenically frozen?

Wendy, stay away
from that thing.

Come on, Lace, you really think
Mansicle Neville...

It's you?

I don't understand.

Please, haven't you
done enough to me?

All I want is
out of this misery.

I tried to return control
to the people.

But you betrayed me.

- I did?
- No.

I did.

Dub-Dub, why is there
another Dub-Dub?

Put down my cannon.

You don't seem surprised
to see me.

Our HEYDAR picked up
the rip in space.

- You have a HEYDAR?
- There's little in this world
I don't have.

I know that red ray gun.

You killed Tyler?

Oh, right.

The hottie.

Hm, let me guess.

You're a "good guy" in
your world, just like Tyler?

Really scraping the bottom
of that sidekick barrel,
aren't you?

What is going on?

Lacey, so typically
behind the curve.

Allow me to explain.
When I was 14,

my father disappeared,

- under mysterious...
- And as of yet unexplained
circumstances.

Control room combination.

- It's the day Dad disappeared.
- So I never forget.

Never let go of the feeling
of things happening
beyond my control.

When I saw
the tide turn to Fatboy,

saw them taking over,
I figured, why not be on
the side of control for once?

After a year of assisting
the great Manservant Neville,

I saw what he really wanted.

To loosen Fatboy's grip, give
the power back to the people

and go green,
whatever the hell that means.

And so, we went
our separate ways.

- His was into this cryo-bed.
- You secretly rule Fatboy.

That explains
the no-camera policy.

Uh, guys, when I asked what was
going on, I meant about you two
being twins.

She's me from a parallel
universe, you imbecile.

And yes, Joe-90,
there are no cameras here.

I can't have
anyone seeing me now, can I?

- No, ma'am.
- Thanks for sounding
the silent alarm.

You killed Joe-90!

As I was saying, only my private
guards know the truth about me.

Gentlemen, would you please
come up to my control room?

Wait. There's just one thing
you haven't counted on.

I was trained by Sensei Ping.

The guards will
be here any second.
We're fish in a barrel.

Get the phased polaron cannon.

But please, let me go!

- Help! I'm sorry!
- Miss Watson?

Settle down, gentlemen.
I've got everything
under control.

Hey, Dub-Dub, there's just one
thing you haven't counted on.

I can prove my identity.

I suppose it's fitting
that it should end like this

after all our history together.

How can you do this?

Kill your best friend
and someone who shares
your body and mind?

Is this who you are?

You're right.
What am I doing?
I can't do this.

- Really?
- Psych.

- Guards, ready.
- Well, it was worth a shot.

I'm sorry, Lace.

- Aim.
- At least
I got my Dub-Dub back.

- Sorta.
- Fire.

Eat hot death.

Cover your eyes!

- Who is this guy?
- He's just The Middleman.

He's kinda hot.

- Sorry about the Middlehog.
- It's just a bike.

Guess you're gonna have to storm
the gates and take it back?

I'm not about to make
fighting Fatboy my daily bread.

First order of business
after I send you back

is turning this city into a dot
in my rear view.

I'm gonna hotwire a car.

Well, you gotta do
what you gotta do.

But, uh, thank you.

Don't do that.

- Do what?
- Make me your hero.

Good grief,
is he always like this?

With the perma-frown?

- Lace...
- I'm just glad that the
Wendy Watson that I used to know

is still alive somewhere.
Man, Dub-Dub,

you show up, you make them love
you, then you're off
into a Quantum Singularity.

- What a tease.
- It's time.

Stay. Fight.

You're The Middleman.

If you don't, who will?

So, I guess you'll be going?

You know, I like the way
you handled yourself back there

at Fatboy Command.

Have you ever considered
the exciting field
of temporary employment?

I hate to leave you
at your doorstep
after your harrowing ordeal.

At times like these I wish
O2STK had some kind
of counseling service.

Well, you showed up
to get me.

That's all the reassurance
I need.

You know, Dubbie,
when I saw my mirror self
through that gateway,

a single question
ran through my mind.

No, you would not look cooler
with an eye patch.

A man's got to wonder.
But the question was:

how far from that
other Middleman am I, really?

I have to say,
I find it a mite unsettling.

Maybe, but it works both ways.

I know if you,
all the yous out there,
weren't you to the core,

I would have never
made it out alive.
So, thanks.

- No. Thank you, Dubbie.
- I just hope he steps up.

That world really needs
its Middleman.

That choice
is in his hands now.

Yeah. We're talking
about a guy who chooses
to wear leather chaps.

Hello, Lacey.

Hi.

Don't you two get any ideas.

This here's no pleasure craft.

Fits just like a glove.

All right, kiddies, let's kick
some coil-tailed bacon.

Yes, Mother, me and Tyler
are doing just fine.

I promise.

The job is going great.

My boss?

Well, he's still into guns,
just like Dad.

Yeah, I can't wait to go in
tomorrow and see what comes up.

Really? I don't think
I've heard you say that before.

You think I sound happy?

Well, Mother, that might be
because all is right
with the world.