Archer (2009–…): Season 3, Episode 10 - Crossing Over - full transcript

Ugh. Oh, God. Ugh.

No, forget the glass, Woodhouse,

just give me the pitcher.

For I am a sinner in the
hands of an angry God.

Bloody Mary, full of vodka,

blessed are you among cocktails.

Pray for me now and
at the hour of my death,

which I hope is soon. Amen.

Uh, perhaps a coddled egg?

No. No eggs, Woodhouse.

Maybe ever again.
Some dry toast?



Yeah, or you could skip a
step and feed me some vomit.

Not like you to
get a hangover, sir.

I don't know what happened.

I mean, I kind of
remember being at the wake.

Oh, you poor dear.

On behalf of his
fellow ISIS agents,

please let me be the first
to offer my condolences.

And let me be the first
to welcome you back

into the dating pool.

And/or my new hot tub.

But after that,
it's just snippets.

I think I had one
more drink there.

Drink, drink, drink!

Then I think I took a cab.



Hang on, wait! Let
me see some hands!

Who wants chicken and waffles?

How did we bring food in here?

Oh. And also, did
we lose some people?

Lana and Cyril bailed.

Trifling bitches.

Here. Unless you're
a trifling bitch too.

Oh. Oh!

What did I just put inside me?

Green Russians.
It's absinthe and milk.

Sweet shitsnacks, look at those!

Oh, my God! That's right!

It's somewhat coming back to me.

Whoo! I'm Pacman Jones!

Come home with me.

Plus, my valet will
give you some heroin.

Thankfully, I didn't
have to share.

But she did, she
came home with me.

I remember.

I mean, Green
Russians, it's fuzzy.

I don't remember this.

But I do remember
her being the best sex

I've ever had in my life.

Uh... Shut up.

And that includes Europe,
Lana, my Brazilian au pair.

No woman has ever
made me... Oh, shit!

Sir? Phone number! Matchbook!

I don't know her
name, where she works.

Woodhouse, how
am I gonna find her?

Um, mm. You might check the loo.

What, here?

Why didn't you say so? Ow!

Ow!

Ow, ow, ow.

Uh, so... Hey, hi.

I'm, uh, Sterling Archer.

You may remember
me from the strip club,

and hopefully also from
what was hands down

the most incredible sex

that I personally have ever had.

Uh, hello?

Oh, right, so, uh, I know, uh,

we had an implied oral agreement

about heroin, but...

Heroin! That's the last
fricking thing I need.

I'm bound up tighter
than dick's hatband.

No, no, no, not...
Wait, were you...?

Did... Did we?

Yeah, we did. And you loved it!

No, I'm sorry, I can't...

Okay, jeez, I get it!

Well, you say that, but I worry

that you think I'm
exaggerating when I say...

That I was the best
sex you ever had?

No.

That if anybody
ever finds out about it,

I will literally...

Pam, look at me. I
will literally murder you.

Not literally. Yes, literally.

You will wake up in three
separate 50-gallon drums.

That's 150 gallons

of Pam's hot, dirty,
ball-slappiney...

Oh, God! Come at me, bro!

♪ How you gonna keep 'em ♪

♪ Down on the farm ♪

♪ After they seen Pam-ee? ♪

Yeah, how are you gonna...?

I mean, my God, you
can't. That was just...

Disgusting!

And I hoped I would
never have to say this,

but you finally topped your
10th grade sports banquet.

I... Okay, first of all,

Mrs. Coach Mumford
came on to me.

And second of all...
What are we talking about?

Hitting on your dead
colleague's widow

at his own wake!

Oh, that. Okay, so...

So help me God, Sterling,

sometimes I think that
I've failed as a mother.

Sometimes?

Oh, shut up.

And the last thing you
need is another drink.

Ugh. Seriously, how
can you be drinking

after last night?

How can you not?

Because I don't have a problem.

Well, I do.

First step's
admitting it, Mother.

Not with drinking! BOTH: Uh...

My problem, besides
your snide remarks,

is Nikolai Jakov,
head of the KGB.

And also possibly
Archer's father.

What? How do you
know about that?

Because I'm part of everybody.

Damn that blabbermouthing Pam!

Why, what did she say?

Besides the stuff about Jakov,

which obviously is
what you meant, so...

So Nikolai has
been dropping hints

that he may want to defect.

What? That's awesome.

I think you mean "awful."

Uh, ISIS getting an inside look

at every single KGB
operation in the world?

And that's awful how?

Because he thinks he's
going to move in with me!

Me, who happens
to be in a relationship

with Burt Reynolds, in
case you've forgotten?

I actually did forget that.

Yeah, I never see you together.

Are you like dating, or...?

It's complicated.

What with our work
schedules and work,

it's hard to find
time for actual dates.

But you do see one another?

Well, yes, of course, but...

But never in public, right?

Only at your place,
or maybe a hotel, or...

Or on the dirty
floor in the elevator?

What? Pam!

Get your bloated carcass...

Out! I got it, I'm
on this, I got it!

How did she know
about the elevator?

I... Ew.

Burt made sure I
erased the security tape.

You don't think Burt's
ashamed to be seen with me?

Lana? I'm sorry?

Well, I'm sorry, but if
anybody ever found out,

I would die of shame.

Well, how do you think
that makes me feel?

I don't care, Pam.

Now having said that,

would you please come
in this dirty toilet stall

and have sex with me?

Oh, all right.

But this time, get in there.

All you've been doing
is giving one side hell.

Well, when you put it like that,

it sounds kind of shitty.

Thirty years of my
life I give to the KGB,

and now you, this
traitorous cyborg

are sitting at my desk?

How would you put it?

Yeah, you really
got cornholed, huh?

Wait, don't answer yet,

because I'm also
reassigning you to Siberia.

Siberia?

Well, Barry can't have you
moping around here, you know,

sowing the discontent.

Is bad for morale.

Et tu, Brute?

Et me, buddy. Ah!

So here's my advice
to you: dress in layers.

And don't even think

about doing anything
crazy like defecting.

I would never defect!
I love mother Russia!

Even when you're chopping
through the ice in the toilet

so you can poop?

I'm kidding, obviously.

I mean, you're gonna be
like 600 miles from a toilet.

Sorry, had to go
to the bathroom.

Nothing unusual,
just, uh, you know,

normal bodily waste excretion.

If you're quite
finished... Damn near.

Then go home, sober up,

and make sure your
apartment is secure.

Um, why? To all three of those.

Because if and when
Nikolai shows up here,

he's not staying at my place.

Well, he's not staying with me.

Then go prep the safe house.

Because you can
bet every KGB agent

and freelance assassin
this side of Berlin

will be hunting him
down like a dog.

Who hunts dogs?

Orientals! Duh.

So when you say you assume

Jakov got on that
train to Siberia,

you know what you're
doing? I make you ass.

And Barry doesn't like!

Being made an
ass, he really doesn't.

And as you can...
Well, it's over there now,

but the telex from
the Siberia desk

says Jakov never showed up.

Now, why do you
think that might be?

Um...

Thank you, Boris.

I won't forget this!

I promised myself I don't cry.

Promise broken.

Hey, what was that?

Allergies.

To what, making sure
people get on trains?

Oh, nice one, other Barry.

Now Jakov's got a
12-hour head start,

and the details of every
single KGB operation

on the globe in his
fat, combed-over head.

Ah. And you have no
idea where he went.

Well, I assume he's in New York

with those shit-bitching-
ass-bastard Archers.

But... I can assume!

You're already an ass.

So contact our
sleeper in New York

and then cancel all
my meetings this week

because I will also
be in New York.

Murdering people.

Uh, don't take
this the wrong way,

but I pictured you
having nicer apartment.

Why that is funny?

Hmm? Oh, no, sorry.

There's a funny
"Marmaduke" on the fridge.

A what?

This is actually, ahem,

the ISIS safe house.

Cheers. Safe house?

But Malory, I assumed...

Which you shouldn't have.

What, you thought
you'd just show up

out of the blue and
we'd move in together?

Pretty much, yeah.

Nikolai, it's not
that I don't...

Am not very fond of you.

I mean, we have such
history together, and...

And maybe a son.

Mm...

Maybe. But...

But, so, where is he?

Good question.

He was supposed
to prep this dump.

And didn't. Now he's
supposed to be here

for the first shift
of guard duty.

And isn't. Uh...

Hi. Lana Kane.

You must be Major
Jakov, such a pleasure.

Be a lamb and take
those to the kitchen.

So I think I speak
for all of us when I say

we shouldn't be the only ones
guarding your maybe-baby-daddy.

I can't believe you
all know about that.

Wow, ha, ha, that is big dog!

Marmaduke.

And regardless of
any personal ties

I may have with Nikolai,

he's an invaluable asset
and we have to protect him.

I mean, you know, at least
until he's been debriefed.

And then? What, he's on his own?

Wow.

I'm serious, you are literally
draining the life out of me.

Come on, you make me sound
like some kind of chupacabra,

but for dicks.

A terrifying yet
accurate comparison.

Where'd you
learn all that stuff?

You know I grew
up on a farm, right?

Really hoping
that's not relevant.

Ms. Kane and your mother.

Hooray.

Okay, I gotta
bounce. Later, taters.

Lana, listen, if
this is a booty call,

- I'm flattered, but...
- Oh, my God.

You're supposed to
be guarding Nikolai!

Yeah, so, uh, about that,

I mean, don't you think
that's gonna be kind of...

um, awkward?

I actually think
it's kind of sweet.

Uh, little help?
No, you're good.

The camera's set
up for debriefing

and one of us will
relieve you in eight hours.

Wait, where are you guys going?

Uh, a town called work.

Neutralizing a KGB
sleeper in Brooklyn,

thanks to this intel
from the major.

It was least I could do.

Since otherwise he'd kill you?

Is win-win.

Is it?

So...

Yeah?

Sterling.

Yeah?

Is long time.

Yeah, when was, uh...?

Oh, I guess when I was
in the dreaded Lubyanka

with jumper cables
clamped to my balls!

So, da, this is
a little awkward.

Yeah.

Maybe some shots?
Yeah, let's try that.

Any time now.

Cyril. Cyril!

Lana, I, uh...

I don't think I'm
cut out for this.

Well, don't take
this the wrong way,

but neither does anyone else.

Just pretend he's
like a rabid dog.

Oh, God, just like Old Yeller.

Yeah, if Old Yeller
had a big stack

of KGB codebooks

and fif... Forty thousand
bucks in a floor safe.

And was also identified
as a sleeper agent

by the head of the KGB.

Who, Barry?

What? White?

You guys like smooth R&B?

Duh. Are you telling me Barry

"The Bionic Douche Bag"
Dillon is running the KGB?

Only if I can defect too.

Because that dude is
out of his damn mind.

I'm listening. He's crazy!

I mean, he's smart, way
smarter than Jakov, but...

Oh, and you can bet
Jakov's intel is bad.

Really? This isn't your kneecap?

Don't you get it?

Barry gave me up

so you'd trust
Jakov on the rest.

He knew Jakov
wanted to defect, so...

So he's been
feeding him fake intel?

I mean, I assume.

Because Barry's
got a master plan

which when you hear it,

will probably make
your head explo...

Jesus! GILLETTE: Jesus!

Ahem, Cyril?

I'm sorry.

Yes. Yes, you are.

Is I who am sorry.

I should have
been there for you.

Shut up, don't do that.

I mean, what were you
gonna do, marry my mother?

Have you met her? Ow!

Don't you ever disrespect her.

You're not my dad!

How would you know?

I know, right?

But I have to say,
you don't look like me.

And don't take
this the wrong way,

but thank Christ!

Ha, ha! Ow!

Watch it, you dumb idiot!

Oh, man, I'm so sorry.

Here, let me get you...
Oh, my God, Cheryl!

Barry?

Wow, I was hoping
I'd bump into you.

Wait, really?

And darn if I didn't, literally.

You... Wait a minute,

why am I thinking you
live in, like, Russia?

Maybe the tracksuit?

Duh. Right. Which by the
way, you are totally rocking.

Oh, that's just my huge muscles.

Oh, ha, ha.

So tell me, how strong are you?

Insanely. Wanna get out of here?

Oh, my God, totally,

but it has to be your place

because mine
reeks of ocelot piss.

I have no response to that.

Doesn't merit one.

And my place is
currently flooding, so...

Hotel.

Damn, no money.
Tracksuit, no pockets.

Damn it!

I know, it's the one
single drawback.

Wait, doesn't ISIS
have a safe house?

Yeah, but you have to
promise that all that horrific stuff

I think I remember about
you is just false memories.

I... Because I get those a lot.

Cross the microchip in my heart.

And don't get all
girly on me. Check!

Hold the door! Hold the door!

Heading out?

No, I thought I'd just
take all my things for a ride

on the elevator.

Okay. I actually have a date.

With Burt Reynolds.
We're watching Gator.

Your place?

Well, if we go out, you
know, he's just mobbed, so...

So it's a DVD, a box of wine,

some Hot Pockets,
and off to bed.

No! Well, it's
not a box of wine.

Pam, let me ask you something.

How can you just leave me here?

Mainly because

I have an incredibly
addictive personality.

So just debrief yourself
with the camera,

and when I get back,

we'll talk about
the DNA test thing

if, you know, you're
still into doing that.

Of course I am still into that.

Uh, but in meantime,
you think I will be safe?

God, what's Russian for "duh"?

It's a safe house.
Nobody knows where it is.

Well, here it is.

Neat.

Can I see your neck a minute?

Oh, Barry.

Barry? Barry. Barry.

Barry!

My point is,

if you're confident in
yourself as a woman,

who cares if he wants
to keep it on the D.L.?

Well, yes, but...

But nothing!

Because who's to say
you're not using him for sex?

Pam, don't take
this the wrong way,

but you're not nearly
as stupid as you look.

Okay.

Archer, don't talk, just listen.

Why, what's up? What do...

Jakov's intel is bad

and Barry's got some
sort of master plan

that we're clueless about,

thanks to Cyril.

Who has apologized profusely...

Quiet game!

We're gonna regroup
at the safe house

and try to figure out...

Goddamn it. What?

Wait for it.

Leave it!

Da, da, keep your shirt on.

Barry doesn't wear a shirt.

Ruins Barry's
whole tracksuit vibe.

I swear to God,

if he put as much
effort into his job

as he does into those
idiot voicemails...

And you say you got
this from a KGB sleeper?

Right before Cyril
blew his head off.

What?

You son of bitch,

you actually think
you'll get away with this?

Obviously. Why
else would I do it?

Who knows with
you? You're crazy.

Am I?

I mean, between
Archer ruining my life

and you dicks turning
me into a cyborg,

I'm kind of amazed
I'm even this sane.

Which is obviously
a relative term, but...

Uh, what are you doing?

Rationalizing my behavior.

With gas. Oh.

Oh, killing you.

Oh.

Oh, Marmaduke.

Ah. And gas is not
so bad way to die.

Well, again, relative term.

And afterward, if Sterling want,

he can still get some
DNA from my body

and find out if I
am his real father.

Which I'm sure would provide him

with some much-needed closure,

which is why it's
not gonna happen.

Uh, why, what is that?

This, glad you asked,

is a block of ice
with a fork frozen in it.

What are you doing with it?

I am putting this
fork-filled block of ice

in this microwave oven.

Now I'm setting
the timer for five...

Oh, heck, let's
call it 10 minutes.

Doesn't matter,
ice can't tell time.

It can only melt.

And when it does...

Spark from fork,
gas from stove...

Boom.

And no DNA left for papa test.

Nope.

Just uncertainty and doubt.

Which hopefully, over time,

will eventually
drive Archer insane.

And this, this is
your master plan?

Huh? Oh.

Oh, no, no.

No, this is a whole
other awesome thing.

This is just a
goof. Later, tater.

Sterling, if by some miracle,

this video tape
survives the explosion,

there is something
very important

I want you to know.

First thing is, your
shitter's clogged.

Don't care, can't feel my legs.

Second thing is,

if you want me to keep doing
you dirty on the down-low...

Yes, yes, yes.

Then we are gonna have
some ground rules. To wit!

Barry? Was here?

Yeah, but she says
he took off after he...

Here, you tell her.

So Barry brought me here...

How did he know
where "here" was?

No idea,

but then he strangled
me, which at first was hot.

He is, like, super strong,

but then I was, like, floating

toward this really bright light

and some guy with a beard.

Jesus Christ!

Or Richie Havens.

Nikolai!

And so, Sterling,

remember, things are not always

what they appear.

Hello? Hello?

Oh, for... Mother,
this isn't voicemail.

Mother, come on.

The time is exactly 7:16,
and I wish they were,

but even my voicemail
pranks aren't that elaborate.

Mother!

Sterling?

Leave it. Just kidding.

Sterling, it's me.

Duh. Where are
you? What's all that...?

Uh-huh.

Uh-huh.

Okay. Yeah.

What's up?

That was, uh... My, uh...

The man who
might've been my father

just died.

Awkward.

And it's all my fault

because instead of doing my job,

I was here,

half-drunk and
having amazing sex.

Well, I wouldn't say amazing.

What? Come on, you
were pushing rope!