Archer (2009–…): Season 4, Episode 12 - Sea Tunt: Part 1 - full transcript

Malory's new hobby is collecting payloads of B-52 bombers: Mark-28 hydrogen bombs. She wants ISIS to recover an H-bomb and then "give" it to the U.S. government, in exchange for a huge reward...or ransom. ISIS must obtain a deep submergence vehicle, or DSV. to obtain an H-bomb. With 2 DSVs in existence and the Russians having one of them, it is a problem. Malory wants to beat the Russians, so when Cheryl announces her stupid gross brother, Cecil owns the other DSV, things start to look up. Archer loves that Cecil owns an island, undersea lab and a "choppersaurus," with wet bar and buffet. Cecil seems to be generous with his toys and without strings, or does Cecil and his Vegan girlfriend, Tiffy have ulterior motives? One hoax later, the ISIS crew learns of the sinister mission in store for them. Those crazy Tunts! Why does Cecil insist on non-diegetic music? Will Archer ever define "wildly liberal use of the bar"? Grab an Epi-pen and get your jumbo scrimps on! There's more to this ISIS adventure than meets the eye.

MALORY: Hurry,
hurry, sit down. Come in.

I have the most fantastic news.

What, did Bub finally
die? Who's Bub?

My mother, and before you
make some snotty comment,

yes, I have a mother.

Do you wanna hear
my news or not?

Yeah, if you're done
yelling at me for no reason.

Last night, an Air
Force B-52 bomber

crashed off the
coast of Bermuda.

GILLETTE: That's bad news.

Well, it's about fricking time.

What? We're not
bombing them in advance

of an amphibious invasion?

Why would we invade Bermuda?

Oh, ha, Bermuda. Duh.
I was thinking Bahamas.

Same question. Same answer.

Why not? It's how we
got the Virgin Islands.

Actually, the
United States bought

the Virgin Islands from Denmark.

Okay, Mr. Peabody.
Are you finished?

Yes. Good.

Because the B-52 was...

In the middle of the
Bermuda Triangle.

Is this about the
Bermuda Triangle?

That's my fourth biggest fear.

It's about the B-52's payload.

Namely, a Mark-28 hydrogen bomb.

GILLETTE: Oh, my God.

Which ISIS is going to recover.

GILLETTE: Wait, do
what? LANA: What?

And then give to
the U.S. government

in exchange for a huge reward.

What? So ransom it back.

No, not ransom it, Cyril.

We're... Look,
semantics, whatever.

This is... Treason?

A huge opportunity for ISIS.

Or the Russians.
ALL: Wait. What?

MALORY: The B-52 is
on the ocean floor here

at a depth of 8000 feet.

Or 1333 fathoms.

How do you know
that? How do you not?

So recovering the bomb requires
a deep submergence vehicle.

The only American
DSV is here in the Pacific.

The Russians have
one in the North Atlantic.

So if they hear about the wreck
and start steaming toward it...

They don't actually
steam anymore, Mother.

It's a figure of speech,
like shut your hatch.

Because my point was the
Russians will beat them to it.

So we are going to
beat the Russians.


Give it up, folks.
Mike Eruzione.



Well... Shut up. Since
Krieger doesn't have

a submersible
hidden in his lab...

Or do I?

[WHISPERING] I don't, actually.

Then how are we
supposed to beat anybody

to a hydrogen bomb under
2.27 leagues of water?

Oh, my Jesus.
Goddamn, all right already.

Can I possibly help you?

Please, I know you
were talking loud

so I'd hear you, so whatever.

But we're not speaking,

so if you want a deep
submergence whatever,

you can talk to my
stupid, gross brother Cecil.

Who, by the way,
is here to see you.

Ms. Archer will see you now.

Thank you, Cheryl. I...

Aaarggh! I hate you!

Ahem. Hello, I'm Cecil Tunt.

I believe you're in need
of some assistance?

Yeah, Rien
Poortvliet just called.

He wants you to pose for him.

Oh, come on, beloved
illustrator of Gnomes?

Jesus, read a coffee table book!


ARCHER: Wow. You own an island,

an undersea laboratory
and this choppersaurus?

Guess it doesn't suck
to be a billionaire, huh?

Probably not.

But Cheryl and I split
our parents' estate,

so technically I'm
only worth 500 million.

Which also doesn't
suck, obviously.

CHERYL: Unlike you,
who totally sucks obviously.

Will you shut up?

I swear to God, if
you get us kicked off

before I get my
jumbo scrimps on,

you will wish you
were Michael Findlay.

A, Cecil won't kick you off.

He wants everybody
here for no good reason.

He doesn't need one.
He's an American hero

who's going to make me rich.

And B, that's not
even real shrimp.

This is all vegan soy bullshit.


Because he's totally vegan,

because his stupid,
gross girlfriend Tiffy

is a vegan and
a brother-stealer!

Who can also totally hear you.

Which is amazing.

Why aren't you dead
from protein deficiency?

Because I get all eight
essential amino acids

from amaranth and quinoa

without murdering
helpless animals.



Could you, instead
of antagonizing her,

maybe go ahead and take off?


Love you.

We'll rendezvous with my
research vessel in a few hours,

so in the meantime, I guess,

continue to make such
wildly liberal use of the bar.

Done. You're okay, Cecil.

I don't get why Cheryl
hates you so much.

Right? You've got this whole

Jacques Cousteau
thing going on, that's...

Just one of my
many philanthropies.

I have so much on
my plate, as it were.

Children Without
Plates, speaking of plates.

Doctors Within Borders...

"Within Borders"?

Well, of countries
ravaged by war.

Right, otherwise...

Otherwise there's
not really much point.

Then there's Nourish
a Child, Shoe a Child,

Bespectacle A Child.

Um... One Laptop
Per Child Soldier...

Wait, what?

Which, unfortunately,
soon became

One Thousand
Laptops Per Warlord.

Man, all those charities
have gotta cost, like...

Hey, I should go help Tiffy,

since we're flying into
the Bermuda Triangle

where mysteries abound!

What kind of mysteries?

I'm kidding. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Well, Cheryl, you
come by it honest.

LANA: Speaking of...
Agh! Lana, come on.

We're about to fly into
the Bermuda Triangle.

My nerves are
frayed enough as it is.

Really? No.

Long Island Iced Tea number
three really took the edge off.

You want one? No,
I'm not drinking, but...

Oh, my God. I totally
saw this coming.

What...? You saw what coming?

Did you not join
the Nation of Islam?

No, Archer, I...

You know they won't let
you keep dating Cyril, right?

Plus, no bacon. You done?

Well, for now, but
after I take a nap, I'll...

You'll wake up in time
to get shot for treason

because your mom
wants to ransom a bomb

back to the United States.

It's a reward.

And maritime salvage law
is very clear on the subject...

according to Cecil.

And what's he
getting out of this?

I guess whatever useless
thing philanthropists normally get

from squandering
their money on the poor.

So, what, he's conducting
a huge naval operation

just for a warm fuzzy?

Uh... Hey, wait a second.


I think I have room
for a Fuzzy Navel.

Tiffy, who taught you how to fly?

Was it that goose you freed,

ruining last year's
Christmas dinner, or...?

Ugh! Cecil, I
swear to Goddess...

I know, Tiffy.

But please, try to focus
on the greater good.

In the words of the
immortal Jeremy Bentham...

Good thing I'm immortal,

because if she says
one more word to me,

I will slam this helicopter
into the fricking ocean.

Well, you seem busy.

So say it's worth 2 billion.

A fair reward on
that would be...

Ahem. Hello. Oh, Mr. Tunt.

Please join me.

You're just the
person I wanna talk to.

And I, you. About my sister.

I was curious if you'd
noticed anything,

well, curious
about her behavior.


Oh, you're serious.
I'm afraid so, yes.

Well, how much time do you have?

As much as you need.

CECIL: Oh, my God. I
don't know what to say.

I have figuratively
lost my tongue.

With Brent, it was
almost literally.

That's why we
can't have scissors.

I had no idea her mental state
had declined to such an extent.

I mean, the arson's
not surprising.

What have you done?


Take that, gazebo!

But you're telling me she had...

Mm. Choke sex, that's her kink.

With a KGB cyborg.

After she led him straight
to the ISIS safe house

at 921 East 73rd Street.

Oh, my...

Wait, is that classified?

I won't tell if you won't tell.


Well, I appreciate your candor
in this matter, Ms. Archer.

Oh, no, it's Ms.


Oh. Ms., yes.

Thank you for...

Mm... Yes.


ARCHER: Come on.
You call this fully stocked?

And no Georgia peaches?

What the...? What are you doing?

I... What are you doing?

Hairy Navel. Started as a Fuzzy,

but I'm calling
this vacation, so...


Okay. Love our little talks.


Hi. It's Pam, right?

Enjoying the cruelty-free
vegan seafood buffet?

Mm! It's pretty good
once you get over

how allergic I am to soy.

What? Oh, my
God, don't eat that.

Hey! I'm a consenting adult.


Plus, I assume
you've got an EpiPen

on this big Riptide-
looking bastard?

I... Yes.

In the cockpit in
the first aid kit, but...

Well, then shut up.

Okay, shutting up, yes. Grr.

But before I do, could I
ask you a few questions?

How is everybody okay with this?

How are you not? Lana,
you heard Ms. Archer.

It's either us or the Russians...
I did not hear that, but...

But if you found
somebody's wallet,

you'd expect to
get a reward, so...

What if they won't pay a reward?
What, she just keeps the bomb?

It's not gonna come to
that. Ooh! But if it does...

we could move to Cecil's
island and be a rogue state.


Ugh! Forget it.

Oh, and also, dummies,

we're 500 miles
from the nearest tree.

Hey, thanks, Magellan.


Wait, why the heck are
you painting my face?

Because you look fierce. Rrowr!


CECIL: Well, thank you, Pam.

I appreciate your
candor, and you really,

really should really
stop eating those.

Last one.


Malory, please, is there any way

I can get you to
reconsider this?

Well, if you feel
that strongly...

I so do.

Cecil says marine salvage goes

for 10 to 20 percent
of the item's value.

But since all I'm asking
is a measly 3 percent,

if you've got $60
million lying around...

Exqueeze me? I know, right?

It's a steal at twice the price.

RAY: Yeah, and about that.

Cyril figured out how big
our bonuses should be.

Your what?

I... Ray made me.

Cyril. Come on,
you're fierce. Rrowr.


PITCHED VOICE]: No, don't!


Could I speak to
you for a moment?

[IN NORMAL VOICE] Wildly liberal
use, Cecil. Those were your exact words.

No, of course,
that's totally fine,

but I wanted to
talk to you about...

Don't say high-functioning

I wasn't going to. Well,
then what's on your mind?

Well, it's about my
sister. Hey, whoa.

I don't know what she told you,

but Carol's a
consenting adult, so...

Well, that's actually my point.

I wanted to ask
you if you'd ever

seen her acting strangely or...

Ha, ha! Ha! Ah...

Oh, you're... You're serious.


Just ignore it.
It's non-diegetic.

Last one. Stinky-pinky
swear. Mmm...

CHERYL: Psst! Pam.

Aw, crap.

Already? CHERYL: Pam.

Look, auditory hallucinations
aren't gonna make you

any less delicious.

Hey, I was talking to that.
Shh. Shut up. I need your help.

And that's how you ask?

Cecil's, like,
interviewing everybody.

Yeah, he... Is he doing that?

Yes. And I think he's taping it.

Look, there's
cameras everywhere.


He's taping them
saying I'm crazy,

so that he can
show it to a judge

and get conservatorship over me.

Huh. "Huh" what?

I mean, you think that's the
worst idea anybody ever had?

Oh, my God.

I know. It's hard
to hear, but... Ow!

I thought you were my friend!
Yeah, and for like six months

you also thought
you were a werewolf!

Ah, crap, I can't feel my face.

Last one, swear to God.

Ha! I swear to God, every
full moon she'd make us

lock her in the
ISIS vault. Ha, ha!

Oh, my God. How
are you laughing?

That's not funny. It's tragic.

I, uh... No.

Yeah, but you know,
plus time, it equals...

Thank you. I've
heard quite enough.

Now, if you'll please
excuse me, I...


My darling whom I love...

and also strangers
whom I don't even like...

our ETA is 15 minutes.

And the seas are really choppy,

so we may be in
for a rough landing.

Thank you. Love you.

So you may wanna
switch to coffee.



Oh, you're still serious.

Or am I?

[WHISPERS] I am actually.

Have you people lost your minds?

Because apparently
it's going around.

Because... Shut up. If
we recover the bomb,

I will decide if any of you
receive a tiny bonus, so...

BOTH: "If"? Guys, shut up.

I got this. Shut up.
What do you mean, "if"?

Also, what are we talking about?

Nothing. There's nothing
to talk about, because I am...

Jesus Christ!

Okay, it's either the
altitude or a stroke.

Mother, it's Sterling.

Do you smell toast? Pam?




What the...? Hell are you doing?

The cockpit is
off-limits, missy!

Oh, yeah?

Well, so is my inheritance!


Goddamn it, shut
up, John Williams!

Oh, my God. You
really are crazy!

Would a crazy person do this?




What the hell is going on?

It's Cheryl. She's
in the cockpit.

I think she's
trying to kill us all!

Oh, good. Phew!

Heh. For a second there,
I thought I drank too much.


TIFFY: Get off me!

CECIL: Cheryl!
Cheryl, open this door!


Why is there a lock on it?

Well, obviously to
prevent this exact scenario

from ever happening, but...

Now? Really? You think this
is a good time to be facetious?

I'm fairly certain you're not
using "facetious" correctly.

Cheryl, can you come out

so we can talk
about this like adults...

who aren't gonna die
in a helicopter crash?

We'll crash with the tapes

of all of you stupid
jerks saying I'm crazy!

The what? CHERYL: The tapes!

It's part of his sneaky plan to
get conservatorship over me

so he can steal my inheritance!

That's why she
hijacked his helicopter?

Man, talk about rich
people problems.

What are you...?
Archer, Pam is dying.

Cyril, shut up.
I'm in charge here.

And, okay, here's
what we're doing.


Emergency tracheotomy.

MALORY: Sterling.
With a crazy straw.

It's fine. It's pretty sterile.

That Hairy Navel was
mostly Kentucky Moon.

That's not even how
you make a Hairy Navel.

I know, it's a new drink.
Help me think of a name.

So far all I've got is
Horatio Cornblower, which...

Okay, here's what's happening.

I'm gonna make a small
incision in your trachea with this.



Yeah, right, that's not sterile.

Ugh! And since when do
you carry a switchblade?

It's a long story, Mother.


Well, not so much long.
It's just not very interesting.

Okay, Pam, you with me?

Then I'm gonna stick
this in the incision

and you should be good to go.

Are you ready?

Uh-uh! Aargh! ARCHER:
Hey, no. Don't... Pam!

Stop it! Guys, hold
her arms. She... Ow!

Okay. Sorry in advance for this.


[GARBLED] First aid kit! EpiPen!

Oh, my God, the first aid kit. I
think it might have an EpiPen.

PAM: Mm-hm!

Oh! Jeez, and
hopefully a cold pack.

Will you...? Go get
the damn first aid kit!

I am, but not
because you said so.

Just breathe, Pam.
It's on the way.


So you think
Cecil's really trying

to steal Cheryl's
inheritance? Who cares?

Well, you should. Because?

Because you've been trying
to get your bony man-hooks

on her money for years,

and how the hell are you
gonna do that if Cecil gets it?

Tapes! We have to find
and destroy the tapes.

There must be some
recording device somewhere.

And why are you still
standing there? Go!

Wait. What about Pam?

I'll buy you a new one! Ow!


Oh, quit milking it.


ARCHER: Hey, hey, hey.

Whoa, Lana, stop. What?

If you damage that,

it might not work in the
event of an emergency.

And what would you call this?

Oh, right.

Speaking of, Pam's dying
of anaphylactic shock.

You got a first aid kit?
I... It's in the cockpit.

Which is locked
and... No, no, no!


And also apparently bulletproof.

Well, yeah, you'd want
it to be to prevent...

You shot me, you idiot!

Hey, first of all, if I
shot you, you'd know it.

And secondly,
now who's the idiot?

You! All of you!

You're here because I
wanted you here, so I could...

Help us get the
hydrogen bomb, yeah.

Oh, my God! There is no bomb!



Well, guess I had that coming.


Well, you don't
have to rub it in.

I just wanted to get
you people on tape

saying Cheryl was crazy,

so I could get control
of her inheritance

to fund my numerous

Ah-ha! Heh...

Hang on.

Now, shut up and land
this shitheap! Ahem.

Now, I believe there was some
mention of anaphylactic shock?

Thank you. She's
my patient, Lana.

Wait, so if all you wanted
was to get us on tape

saying she's crazy...

Which I'm totally not, by the...

You could've done
that in a lawyer's office.

Why drag us all the way here
to the middle of the ocean?

Well, promise you won't get mad?

Ugh. No. PAM: You asshole!

Stupid drunk-ass...

tracheotomy-giving dicknuts!

Ow! Pam, cut it... Ow!


Sorry. Thanks, I
feel a lot better.

Yeah, that's why I
jammed it in your neck.

I figured if... Ow!

What the hell was that
for? Horatio Cornblower?

Heh, heh. I know,
right? You got anything?


Okay, we got the
tapes. Big whoop.

I... Wait, I thought
you wanted...

What just happened? It was
a hoax. There is no bomb.

Boom! Guess you had that coming.

Oh, put another
man's penis in it.

Attention, unwelcome passengers.

We are now landing,

so please find your seats
and fasten your seat belts.

Or not, because, frankly,

I could give a shit if all
you people live or die.

The odds on which
I'd put at about...

What do you think,
Cecil, 50-to-1?

Ow, ow, ow! Lana,
what's going on?

Somebody shot him. Will you...?

Lana, what's going on?

Why don't you ask Cecil?

Ow! God, your
hands are like... Ow!

Well, as you may know,

one of my many
philanthropic endeavors

is an undersea
research laboratory,

which, as luck would have it,

is actually beneath
us right now.

Cut to the chase. Ow!

Anyhoo, the lead
scientist is threatening...

Well, he can tell you. Ahem.

Captain Murphy.


Ah! Please tell me
you guys heard that.

Ah, Mr. Tunt.

Don't worry. He can't see us.

No, but I can hear you.

Although he can hear us.

Yes, I can. And please hear me.

For years, decades,

I have begged the
so-called leaders of the world

to stop poisoning our oceans,
but they have ignored my pleas.

As I will ignore
theirs, Mr. Tunt.

Unless my list of demands is met

in the next... Tick, tock, tick.
- -12 hours.

At which point, I will
launch our missiles

on Washington,
Miami and New York.

Hope everybody has a gas mask.


Why do they have missiles?

And what did he
mean by "gas mask"?

I... You know, that was, I
think, maybe, probably...

because the missiles
are definitely tipped

with VX nerve gas.


Oh, my God. What?

The... It's the... Damn it!

Still can't beat
Horatio Cornblower.