Archer (2009–…): Season 4, Episode 13 - Sea Tunt: Part 2 - full transcript

Once on board the underwater laboratory, the Isis crew find they have very little time to rescue the lab from its deranged captain. But of course, the Isis crew's conflicts and Archer's recklessly impulsive tendencies don't exactly help things.

Time and tide, they wait for no man.

Nor do I, Mr. Tunt. Nor do I.

And unless my demands are met,

I will launch my
nerve gas missiles

on New York,
Washington and Miami

in 11 hours and... Oh,
look at that, 11 minutes.

Hey, make a wish.
Uh, I wish you wouldn't

launch nerve gas missiles
on New York, Washington...

And I wish you fools would
stop destroying the oceans.

Overfishing, industrial runoff.

Don't even get me
started on whaling.

Oh, and plastic bottles?

That's... I can't even...

There is a floating mass
of garbage in the Pacific

twice the size of
the United States.

Oh, and where the hell is
the news crew I asked for?

Uh, with me.

And with your permission,

I'm sending them
down in the DSV.

Good, yes.

I need to get my
message to the world.

Who'd you get? Oprah?

Bigger. You know...

Hello? Is that her?

I... Oh, right, he can't see us.

Which has really got me nettled!

All right, Mr. Tunt,
send them down.

But if this is some
sort of ruse...

Are... Was there
a follow-up or...?

No, I was leaving
the consequences

to your imagination.

But trust me, they are grave.

As in watery grave?

I... Sealab out.

Goddamn it! Off! Unh!

So I have a question...

How are none of these a minibar?

Oh, my God, I know
what you mean. Right?

I mean, it is a giant floating
biodiesel-powered hotel room.

Don't get snotty with me, missy.

You people lure us out
here to help the government

recover a hydrogen bomb...

Which, let's be honest, you
were gonna hold for ransom.


When the whole time you
knew this crazy Murphy character

was gonna bomb New
York with nerve gas?

Well... Not to mention
D.C. and Miami.

Which no one who
matters will miss.

What about your
South Beach condo?

Hello. Florida real
estate collapse.

It's farther underwater
than Sealab.

But if my homeowner's policy
covers nerve gas attacks,

that's a win-win. Wow.

So my question,

ignoring the obvious one of
why an ocean research lab

has nerve gas missiles
in the first place, ahem,

is how many men
does Murphy have?

Mm, like two? Oh, then...


Two score, so around 40.
Sorry, should have finished my...

So, since we're talking
about 40 hostiles,

I have a follow-up question.

Something something danger zone?


I know, I'm not
even trying anymore.

Archer... Nope.

Randy. I'm camera dude Randy,

and this pathetic,
trout-shouldered excuse

for a boom operator is Chet.

Shut up. What's
pathetic is your plan.

Heh. Wait, you
have an actual plan?

Duh, yes, Lana.

So obviously they're gonna
search us for weapons

when we get down there, so...

Wait, what?

Something else danger zone.

Get Murphy alone,
get him at gunpoint,

and make him
disarm the missiles.

That might actually
work. Of course.

I've thought through
every aspect of the mission.

Hence those ridiculous
fake mustaches,

since Murphy's
never seen you before

and has no idea
what you look like?

Goddamn it, Archer!

No, that was just an experiment.

I wanted to see if Ray
looked gayer without his.

You know... But you don't.

You just look as gay.



TIFFY: Sea Tunt to DSV Goddess.

Wait for my command
to disengage the coupler.

LANA: Roger, Sea Tunt.
On your... ARCHER: Nope.

Lana, move, I'm
skippering. LANA: Hey.

ARCHER: I'm skippering.
CYRIL: No. Archer.


Huh. Mildly inauspicious.

LANA: Asshole!

ARCHER: What, Lana?
I clearly called skipper.

And I clearly said, "Seatbelts,"

so you only have
yourselves to blame.

Really? Jesus, Ray.

Your nose is broken. Really?

Cyril, gear bag. First aid kit.

Just give him a couple tampons.

What, that's their job. Really?

Just give him some tam...

I don't have any.

Do you think that was wise?


Well, I'm just assuming.

Your breasts are
slightly bigger, you're...

Shut your stupid
mustachey dickhole

and drive the goddamn submarine!

Slightly irritable?

CHERYL: Shut up!

Jesus! Will you drop it?

He tried to have me committed

so he could steal
my inheritance!

I hate him. I'm never
speaking to him again.

But... Okay, granted,
that was super shitty.

But trust me, you don't
wanna go through life

hating your only sibling.

Take my sister, Edie.

Ah, ha, ha. You have a sister?

Edie. Yes, shut up.

And when we were kids,
she was so mean to me.

Always teasing me,
calling me Spamela,

rubbing cheese curds in my eyes.

One time, she
stabbed me in the neck.

So now you guys
are super close or...?

Hell, no. I wouldn't piss
on her neck-stabbing ass

if it was on fire.

Ugh. Is this the infamous Edie?

Pam thinks I
should forgive Cecil

since he's the only
family I have left.

Who could forgive a person
who buys a boat this big

with no bar on it?

Uh, there was a ton of
booze on the helicopter.

Exactly, was.

sorry, I had to ditch it.

Well, yeah, who
needs a first aid kit

when you've got
10 gallons of booze?

Three and three-fifths
gallons, Cyril.

And I counted them,
so keep your mitts off.

Except to pass me
one up here, but...

Oh, great. The
world's first DSVUI.

May I finish?

But since I have zero experience
skippering submersibles,

I should probably
have something light.

So, Cyril, I'm thinking,
um, coffee liqueur?

I mean, not even cooking sherry?

I got some Kentucky
Moon in my... Ooh, give me.

Da-da-da-da. You
drink it, you replace it.

Grain alcohol is a key
component of a good bug-out bag.

A what?

Bug-out bag? Oh, my

The bear from Star Wars?

"The end of the
world as we know it."

Heh. Pam's, like,
gay for doomsday.

She thinks our whole
society is gonna collapse

if we run out of
oil or whatever.

"If"? You mean "when."

Wow. And that is
a perfect example

of a pre-post-peak-oil mindset.



Say, this stuff is pretty good.

What did you say it was?

Basically pure ethanol. Huh.

Well, God bless corn subsidies.

Who are you, Earl Butz?

You say that like
it's a bad thing.

ARCHER: Oh, for
the... I said I was sorry.

CYRIL: No, you didn't.

Oh. Well, I was planning to.

Oh, well, then no
hard feelings. Good.

Because your shitty
sarcasm notwithstanding,

I'm glad that's behind us,

so we can enjoy what is
probably a once-in-a-lifetime ad...


venture. Again? Seriously?

Why are you puking so much?

Ugh. Because shut up and steer.

Here, take a pull off this guy.

No! For like the ninth time, no!

Yes, come on, it'll
take the edge off.

And I think I speak
for everybody...

No, you don't. Shut up.

When I say we'd all be a
lot happier if you weren't so...

What, anxious?

About a half-drunk-first-time
driving-a-submarine idiot

taking me to the
bottom of the ocean

to face 40 eco-terrorists
led by a crazy person

who's about to bomb the entire
East Coast with nerve gas?

I was gonna say... What?

What were you gonna say?

They're going to say
that I've gone insane,

heh, that I've lost my mind.

And that's fine, let them.

Because the real
insanity is the systematic...

My God, the almost
deliberate way

those bastards are
destroying our oceans.

And I hate that
it's come to this,

but I truly don't
see an alternative.

So you all know
what you have to do

and I know you won't fail me.

Nor I you, gentlemen.

Nor I you.

I was gonna say
bitchy and period-y.

But then I thought better of it.


we're getting close.

Let's go over the
legends again. Lana?

I am tough-but-fair
investigative reporter

Sojourner King.

Which... Ugh.
Whatever. Uh, Cyril?


Chet, sound guy.

That's it? Come on, Chet.
The devil's in the details.

Like, I'm Randy Magnum,
local Emmy-winning cameraman

and nationally
ranked pro kitesurfer.

No, you're not. Well,
Randy Magnum is.

Ray, go.

I am segment
producer Carl Channing.

Oh, my God. Come on.

And... What's Randy
Magnum ranked?

Fourth. And third-ranked
pro kitesurfer.

What? No, you're not.

Carl Channing is.

Nobody is a nationally
ranked anything.

That is the worst legend
you could possibly have.

It would literally take 10
seconds to check it out.

Yeah, Carl. Okay,
shut up, there it is.

CYRIL: Jeezy Petes,
that thing is huge.

Sealab to DSV,
over. LANA: This is...

This is DSV. I'm skippering.

Um, okay. You
sound pretty excited.

Heh. I am, actually.
It's my first time.

Hey, super.

You're clear to dock,
so just head for the lights.

And I'll be waiting for you.

Was that...? Did
he sound like...?

Do you think this is
some kind of a trap?

Heh. What? No, I
don't think it's a trap.

Although I never do.

And it very often is.

LANA: And that's how they died.

ARCHER: Heh, heh. Right?

MALORY: A little peach juice,

a little of that old
Kentucky Moon, and boom.

You've almost got
yourself a Bellini.

Mmm! Holy shitsnacks.

Well, it's no Harry's Bar,

but here you don't have
Hemingway grabbing your tits

every time you tu...

Did I misread that?

What do you think?


MURPHY: No, my men
are guarding the missiles.

CYRIL: Well, there
goes that plan.

MURPHY: What plan? To
do a one-on-one interview.

Just you alone,
with the missiles.

No, we're doing
it on the bridge,

I've got it all set up.

But I really think
we should do it

wherever the missiles are.

To underscore the gravity of...

MURPHY: The bridge
is where the chair is.

LANA: But...

The bridge is
where the chair is!

Yeah, Sojourner.

Thank you, uh...?

Randy. Randy Magnum.

I'm a local Emmy-winning
cameraman and na...


Tionally ranked pro kitesurfer.

Second in the nation, actually.

Which even the most
cursory Internet search

will corroborate. LANA

I really doubt we'll
have time, Randy.

We only have 10 hours

before I'll be forced
to launch my missiles.

LANA: Which are
where again, exactly?

MALORY: You heard
me. I want $50 million.

Pfft. Join the club. Right?

That's how much I could've
gotten for the hydrogen bomb

so that's how much I...

What do you mean,
"join the club"?

Oh. That's just an
idiom. It means...

I know what it means,
you toboggan-wearing ass.

Why did she say it?

Oh. I assume
because I'm penniless?

What? Ha-ha-ha!

Wait, what? Ah.

That's why I tried to get
control of your inheritance.

And I'm sorry I did that, Beans.

I just wanted to help people,

but all these foundations
are so expensive.

I know, but, Cecil.

You really spent your whole
inheritance on the poors?

Well, and scientific research.

The Sealab alone
cost 200 million.

Wh...? How did
it cost that much?

Well, apparently they bought
a bunch of nerve gas missiles

and hid that expense
in the budget.

Which I never bothered to read.

Or even look at.

Look at this place. Such
a colossal boondoggle.

We don't do any
research, really.

And building it?

I mean, the environmental
impact was just insane.

So why did you take a job
here? To save the ocean.

And also my salary
is $600,000 a year.

LANA: What? GILLETTE: A year?

I know, but don't
put that in there.

Let me just read my
list of demands. Ahem.

"One, a 50-year, worldwide
moratorium on all fishing.

Two..." Sorry, did
you mean whaling?

That's number
two, if you'll let me...

Wait, you wanna end all fishing?

For 50 years?

At least. The fish
have to replenish.

Okay, that's it,
I'm calling bullshit.

I wanna see the missiles, now.

What? No, you can't, you...

You don't have any
missiles. Yes, I do.

I've got like 50.

Fifty. Ten?

That's still a lot. Shut up.

Captain Murphy, how long have
you been down here all alone?


Two years.

Nobody had been paid in
months. The foundation was broke.

Not surprising,
given your salary.

Yeah, paid three
years in advance.

He is the world's
worst negotiator.

And you're...

Sorry, but you've obviously
had some kind of psychotic break.

So I think you should
come with us, and...

I'm not going
anywhere. Nor are you!

BOTH: Lana! Archer!


I... Damn it, I had something
about point-and-shoot, but...

A gun? Are you insane?

Don't you know how
much pressure we're under?

Honestly, and I
don't know why this is,

but, heh, it never
really gets to me.

Wait, wait. I think he
means water pressure.

And air pressure.

Tiniest hole in the hull
would be catastrophic.

The hole is gonna be in you.

Archer, no! Don't shoot!

Okay, okay, look, it's gone.

Now, please, put the gun away.

No, I will put on the safety.

Which should be...

Damn it, I wish Krieger
wouldn't do these idiot mods.


Wait, yeah, that
clearly says "safe."

And even Krieger's
not that crazy.

Okay, now slowly
kick the knife over to...

CYRIL: Aah! Damn it!

Oh, my God.

MURPHY: Okay, okay, okay.

Uh, okay, uh, one of two
things is going to happen now.


GILLETTE: Double dukes!

Okay, now one of
one thing is going to...

ALL: Aah!

Huh. Well, now
there's no signal at all.

Wow! Oh, my God,

I'm having the weirdest
déjà vu right now.

You know...

"Here, let me
jailbreak your phone.

"It's a totally
reversible process.

Oh, bricked it."


MURPHY: Hatch! Emergency hatch!


We don't wanna
go outside, idiot!

It's the next pod.

Oh. Heh. Duh!

I'll hold it open, go. Go! Go!


LANA: No, no, no!

Unh! Assholes.


CYRIL: Unh! Ow.

GILLETTE: Oh, my...
Oh, I hurt my back.

one, flooded. Pod two, flooding.

So, what, now we
die in a break room

I would die to have at ISIS?


Maybe not, if he shuts the ha...

ALL: Oh! Aah!

And I just refilled the cans.

Come on, you
guys, get it off of him!

No, no, there's no time.


Plus, I think the weight
of it's the only thing

holding in my intestines.

ALL: Ew. Save yourselves.

Let this compartment
flood, up to that next hatch.

Then seal it
behind you, and run.

This is pod two.

It's about a hundred
yards to the DSV at pod six.

But pods three through
six are still watertight.


three, four, five, six, flooded.

ARCHER: Come on.
Yeah, that's not ideal.

Okay, there's...

Wait, why did a TV
crew have a gun?

We're not a TV
crew, we're from ISIS.

ISIS? Jesus Christ. No
wonder this all went tits up.

Forgive my candor.

I just felt my spleen slip
out of what was my anus.

That locker over there, open it.

Unh. Scuba gear.

Dibs on best. Ooh!
Y'all, I'm not certified.

Is that gonna be a problem?
Well, not the biggest problem.


LANA: There's only three.

So... So one of you
is going to drown.

Yeah, got that. Temporarily.

ALL: What? Hundred
yards to the DSV.

Best case, for a strong
swimmer, two minutes.


The water's ice cold, help
delay the brain damage.

Use the defibrillator on
the DSV to restart the heart.

Yeah, but whose heart?

Weakest swimmer.

Wh...? Oh, screw you guys.

What... Lana, this
isn't entirely about race.

Guys, back me up here.

Well, I was all-county

in the hundred meter
freestyle in tenth grade.

And I have bionic legs.

Plus, I'm super scared.

Plus you're a woman?

I... Yeah, a pregnant woman.


LANA: That's why I
haven't been drinking.

That's why I've been puking,

and that's why my
boobs are so huge!

Well, I wouldn't
say huge, but...

When were you
planning to tell me?


When I finally figured out
how to tell you it's not yours.

Huh? Awkward.


Ignore me, sorry, I'm dying.

Crushed by an
off-brand drink machine.

Oh, my God, just like that
old gypsy woman said...



Get it together.

We both know this isn't
your first time as a cuckold.

Or at least now we both know it.

And for real? You're pregnant?

Five weeks, long
story, yes, but...

Shut up. Here. Wh...?

But... Ray's half-robot.

Cyril, miraculously,
is good at something,

and Lana, you're gonna be a mom.

Just promise me you'll
be a better one than mine.

Because I'm worried something

may have gone terribly
wrong down there.

Well, if it did, we can't
do anything about it.

And if it didn't, all
the more reason

to drive this tub to Bermuda
for some duty-free champagne.

Archer, that
shouldn't be that hard.

[SHIVERING] Phrasing.

Okay, here it comes.
You just gotta relax

and let it go in your
mouth. Oh, God.


Archer? Lana.

I love you.

I know.

Ray, now!

Come on, hurry! CYRIL: Move!

Scarlet Letter O'Whora.

Wh...? Cyril, it was a...

Donor, you shithead.

Come on, hang on,
Archer. Two minutes.

Your brain can
almost spare that.

So, hey, this may
be a weird question,

but you know where
she's registered?

Wh...? What do you think?


Would you hurry up?

Said the guy apparently too busy

counting his
bionic legs to help.

You are gonna sass
yourself right out of a car seat.

Now, come on, hurry! LANA: Unh.

Cyril! Get ready on the airlock!

CYRIL: Yeah, yeah.

Here, go, go, go!
GILLETTE: I got him. I got him!

LANA: Cyril, now, blow it!

CYRIL: Blow me, boom, nailed it.


LANA: Clear. GILLETTE: Clear.

Again. Come on,
he's dead, let it go.

Clear. Clear.


LANA: Archer?

Great. Is he...? Are you...?

The man who cheated death?

GILLETTE: Oh, my God. Thank God.

Oh, my God, Archer, I can't...

I mean, I don't even
know how to thank you.

Well, you could
name your kid after...

Nope. Then just get me topside.

I need to brush Ray's
tongue out of my mouth.

I didn't give you

Come on, admit it.

You Frenched me,
Ray. Heh-heh-heh!

You can lie, but
your boner can't.

Cut it out, Archer.

ARCHER: Look at you. All blushy.

LANA: Be careful, the

So although Sealab
was destroyed...

It was insured for
three times its value,

so now I'm richer than ever.

And I have forgiven
you for being

such an incorrigible douche.

No one cares because
most importantly...

I cheated not only death,

but also somehow
irreparable brain damage.

That remains to be
seen, and shut up,

because Lana is
going to be a mother.

Three cheers for
little Johnny Bastard!

Hip, hip...

Ahem. Inappropriate.

The point is, and
seriously, shut up,

everybody has a happy ending.

Really? Old Ray
gets a happy ending?


Or does Randy
Roughhouse over here

zap him with a defibrillator

and fry the CPU that
made his bionic legs work?

Ray, I'm sorry. Come
on, I was wrong.

Really? Yeah.

Without the mustache,

you look, like, a
billion percent gayer.