MURPHY [OVER MONITOR]: 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.
Reward.
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...
Score.
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?
Ugh.
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.
Boop.
[♪♪♪]
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.
[ALL SCREAM]
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?
Meaning?
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.
ARCHER: Yeah, 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 God, for TEOTWAWKI?
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.
The...
Ahh.
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...
[LANA VOMITS]
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...
GILLETTE & CYRIL: 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.
Boop.
ARCHER: Okay, 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?
[SIGHS]
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?
No?
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...
No.
Tionally ranked pro kitesurfer.
Second in the nation, actually.
Which even the most cursory Internet search
will corroborate. LANA & GILLETTE: Ugh.
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?
[SIGHS]
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!
Murphy!
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.
[SCATTING TO ROCK MUSIC PLAYING OVER SPEAKERS]
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.
ARCHER: Okay.
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."
[ALL SCREAMING]
MURPHY: Hatch! Emergency hatch!
[ALL GRUNTING AND COUGHING]
We don't wanna go outside, idiot!
It's the next pod.
Oh. Heh. Duh!
I'll hold it open, go. Go! Go!
[ALL SCREAMING]
LANA: No, no, no!
Unh! Assholes.
[LAUGHING AND CHEERING]
CYRIL: Unh! Ow.
GILLETTE: Oh, my... Oh, I hurt my back.
AUTOMATED VOICE: Pod one, flooded. Pod two, flooding.
So, what, now we die in a break room
I would die to have at ISIS?
Right?
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.
[COUGHS]
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.
[METAL GROANING]
AUTOMATED VOICE: Pod 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.
ALL: Hey! MURPHY: 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 GASPS]
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.
[COUGHS]
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.
Wh...?
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?
[SIGHS]
When I finally figured out how to tell you it's not yours.
Huh? Awkward.
[COUGHS]
Ignore me, sorry, I'm dying.
Crushed by an off-brand drink machine.
Oh, my God, just like that old gypsy woman said...
[GURGLING]
[WHIMPERING]
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.
Phrasing.
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?
Lana!
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.
[DEFIBRILLATOR CHARGING]
LANA: Clear. GILLETTE: Clear.
Again. Come on, he's dead, let it go.
Clear. Clear.
[HEART MONITOR BEEPS]
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 mouth-to-mouth.
Come on, admit it.
You Frenched me, Ray. Heh-heh-heh!
You can lie, but your boner can't.
Cut it out, Archer.
[DEFIBRILLATOR CHARGING] ARCHER: Look at you. All blushy.
LANA: Be careful, the defib... [GILLETTE SCREAMS]
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?
Ray...
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.
Boop.
[♪♪♪]