MALORY: What do you mean, Lana hasn't called?
I've been sitting here for, like, 5 million years and the phone hasn't rung once.
So every time it doesn't, I just assume it's not her, not calling to say they--
They should've rescued Sterling and Rip from the pirates hours ago.
Maybe they did and just didn't call. No, I gave them explicit orders to--
What the hell are you wearing?
Uh, this thing called "my boss made me sleep at my desk," so pajamas.
Men's pajamas? For God's sake, woman, where is your pride?
In my work?
That may be the funniest thing you've ever said.
Thank you. MALORY: Oh, shut up.
And then try Lana's sat phone.
Wait, what if Lana's been captured too?
Then I'll have to ransom her and Sterling and Rip and--
Well, no, Miss Gillette's on her own. Still...
Get Cyril in here! I need him to find a way to pay for all this!
CYRIL: Wait a minute, that can't be right.
I remember being really mad and really drunk and deciding to do some online banking.
Oh, my God, I must have embezz-- --arrassed myself last night, huh?
Don't talk like black people. And how should I know? I'm still ripped.
Oh. So you don't, um, happen to remember me saying anything about passwords...
...to say, Swiss bank accounts?
Heh. I don't even remember who peed on your sofa.
Although, if I was a gambling man--
MALORY: Cyril! Wha--?
Ugh. Smells like a kennel in here.
Cash reserves, how much do we have?
I'll, uh, need to run those numbers. Heh.
Hurry up, we don't have a minute to lose.
God only knows what kind of torture Sterling's going through.
Get off...
...the bucket.
I'm not done. Yes, you are.
But I didn't... You know.
I can't with all the-- Everybody looking at me, and then the judgments--
LANA: Noah? Yes.
I just traveled 8000 miles and got ambushed by Malaysian pirates...
...trying to rescue a person who is now responsible for my getting crabs twice.
Oh, come on. These crabs, this time, were not my fault.
This whole dungeon is, um...
Were you gonna say "lousy with them"? I was, but then I realized that's, uh--
Where that phrase comes from? Yeah.
Yeah. Yeah.
Yeah. So guess what I'm in? Um...
No mood?
Winner, winner, chicken dinner.
Wait, shouldn't it be some kind of crab dish, because of the crabs? Like, uh, crab cakes?
Ooh. Or Lana. Lana.
Lana.
What? Lana!
Dungeon. Us. Crab. Huh?
Because we're in a dungeon.
I'm kidding. Crab rangoon.
ARCHER: Noah, seriously, I swear to God, stop.
Rock beats spoon. You should know that, you're an archeologist.
Anthropologist.
Whatever. If you're doing it just to get on my nerves, okay, I get it.
But if you're trying to actually escape--
Well, at least he's trying something.
Yeah, as opposed to the Doublemint Twins.
Heh-heh-heh. And one, two, three, go, herd. LANA: Whoa! Unh!
Missed it by that much. Shut up.
It's no use. The trapdoor goes up a vertical shaft to the radio room.
Exactly, and if we get to the radio--
RILEY: Which this idiot shot to pieces--
Holy shit. Wha--? What the hell happened to him?
He-- Who knows? Maybe he had a brain aneurysm.
No, he-- it's the silent killer, Noah.
Not unlike a metal spoon sharpened to a razor's edge...
...and used to slit an anthropologist's bird-like throat.
He just kind of keeled over.
Probably thanks to your bucket-stanch.
Wha--? Excuse me, I didn't even go.
We're going. One, two, three, down, herd. LANA: Oof.
Jeez, how about a little warning? I said, down, herd.
Uh, couple things. One, Ray, thanks for perpetuating the stereotype...
...of the gay man as a collegiate cheerleader.
Uh, yeah. For your information, almost all male cheerleaders are--
Finely-tuned hetero-athletes. Yeah, hang on, I'm getting a call. Brriing!
Hello? Hi, it's lacrosse, you lose.
Wait, the phone. Lacrosse?
Yeah, it's Algonquin for "blood sport"?
It's not Algonquin for anything. Noah...
My sat phone. Yeah. See, Noah? Her-- Wait, your what?
My sat phone. The pirates took it.
And since I haven't called in, ISIS should be calling me anytime now.
Jeezow, Lana, answer your stupid phone.
MAN : Hello? Give me Sterling Archer mother.
Oh, my God, be more Chinese-y.
Pirates, line two. MALORY: Wha--? Well, put them through.
Oh, my God, be more "I hate you."
That's why your phone is blinking.
MALORY: Oh. Hello?
This is Malory Archer.
Okay, then you listen to me.
No, you just listen to me, buster. Bucky.
If you touch one hair on my son's head, I'll have your guts for garters.
Aha, you like wear garter?
Heh-heh-heh-heh. It's an idiom, you heathen.
Malory will call, she'll haggle over the ransom for you, me and Riley.
What about me? Yeah, and me?
We'll come back for you later.
No, shut up. We gotta get that phone, or something. I don't know.
But I don't want Mother talking to Bucky.
Why not? She's been coming to your rescue since you were in short pants.
MALORY: Oh, for-- Sterling, get your things.
We're leaving. Before this quack's office burns to the ground.
MALORY: Sterling, get your things.
We're leaving. Before this cruddy school burns to the ground.
MALORY: Sterling, get your things.
He's gay.
You were in the Army? Oh, who remembers?
CYRI L: Well, try.
PAM: I can't remember.
There's a reason they call it "black-out drunk."
If I don't remember that password, I can't unembezzle that money...
...and then I'm screwed, because I don't have--
MALORY: Ten million dollars?
That's outrageous. I won't pay it.
I don't even want the gay back. So you just better sharpen your pencil.
BUCKY : I don't have pencil. It's an idiom!
Aw, but I love it when Malory bails you out of one of your idiot jams.
Oh, really? Then I get to watch her rub it in your face.
Oh, my God. Okay, first of all--
RILEY: First of all-- Riley, no. Don't say it.
--He's been here voluntarily! Partying his ass off as king of the pirates!
Hmm. What? Don't listen to him.
I bet that brain aneurysm scrambled his Broca's area.
Right? Language center of the brain--
Noah.
Thank you. No problem.
Actually, not making much progress.
LANA: You're kidding.
No.
MALORY: Three million, and not a penny more.
And before you see one thin dime, I want to talk to Sterling.
Cyril. Wha--? Hey, Ms. Archer.
Three million in cash? That, uh, should not be a problem.
I know it shouldn't be, and it better not be.
Why would it be? It's not. I just need to move a little money around.
So move it. Today please.
Keep looking, maybe I wrote it down. Um...
"ArcherSucks." No.
"KillArcherDie." No. PAM: Um...
Just trying all my usual passwords.
Hey, way to not give them the power.
Thank you.
Do you hear me? I want proof of life.
Duh.
LANA: You lying, pathetic, little piece of-- Ooh.
Lana, no. ARCHER: Oh...
Come on, you're gonna kill him. Yup, that's the plan.
Hey, hey, knock it off.
Look, Lana, don't get me wrong, I like your spunk.
Phrasing.
Shut up. But I promised his mother that I would bring him home safely.
And I just assume that includes his spleen. I think that ship might have sailed.
No, not a ship. That was an idiom.
A helicopter. There's an old Huey down by the dock...
...and it just so happens, Rip Riley here can fly it.
No shit? Yeah.
Rip Riley here can fly anything. You know, as long as it's got fuel.
Well, Rip, why don't we just look around for some fuel in this cell...
I doubt they'd keep it in here. ...in which we're still locked?
I figured that we'd kind of work backwards from the, uh, stealing of the helicopter.
“ArcherBurnFace." No.
"Archerbortion." Ugh. No.
Are you gonna type random words in there the rest of your life?
All five minutes of it. At which point, Ms. Archer will probably dissolve me in a drum of acid...
...unless you have a better idea. State-dependent memory.
So your plan is for us to get as black-out, knee-walking...
...shit-faced drunk as we were last night in the hopes that we remember the password?
Well, don't hog it all.
Pam.
Ah. Seriously, I bet that would've killed a lesser man.
Ha. There's a lesser man than you?
Uh, yeah, his name's Houdini. Whom I wish you were.
Yeah, because then I could just puke up a key.
Because you'd be dead. Houdini's dead?
You know what? Yes. Here's what we do.
We lure Bucky down here and take him hostage.
And then? Then we'll see. We'll keep it loose.
Oh, for-- And just how the hell are we supposed to lure him down here?
BUCKY: Sterling Archer.
What? Sorry, I couldn't hear you over the sound of my plan working.
Hey, telephone. It's your mother. My--?
Wait, please tell me you didn't tell her I was temporarily the pirate king.
No, not yet, but this is damn good. I--
MALORY : Sterling, are you all right?
No, Mother, I'm a captive of pirates. Unh!
Oh, and Riley said he no longer finds you attractive because you're too old.
MALORY: He what? What? You little--
Son of a bitch!
MALORY: Was that a gunshot?
Yeah, they got old Ray this time. BUCKY: Unh! Unh! Unh!
Ray! Now I kill you.
Aah! Ow!
Right in the same ear! MALORY: Ha! Good. Serves you right.
Ha-ha-ha-ha! Malory, I never said that!
MALORY: You're no spring chicken yourself.
BUCKY: Aah! LANA: Unh...
Shit. Lana!
MALORY: ls Lana hit? Someone talk to me!
Mother, I'm a little busy right now.
Noah! What?
ARCHER: Spoon him! What do you mean, spoon him?
You mean, spoon him as in like--? Oh, uh, right.
Today, please! BUCKY: Unh!
I am incredibly sorry.
MALORY: Rip? Rip, I take it all back. You're as strong and sexy as the night we--
For shit's sake, Mother! How short is the list of guys you haven't screwed?
How dare you? You can just forget about that ransom.
For once, you're on your own.
ARCHER: For once? Oh, my God, Columbia Hou--?
All I wanted was to mourn the murder of my crazy-hot Russian fiancée...
...by becoming a pirate king!
But I guess that was too much to ask!
So Mother can keep her stupid ransom, because I don't need her!
What I do need is some fricking crab shampoo!
Noah! Wounded! No, no, I'm--
Maybe some psychic scarring, yes, but physically I'm--
Tend to the wounded!
Oh, right, right. Right, of course, of course. Not him. Start with Lana.
I'm fine. Check on Ray. ARCHER: Yeah, he is not looking good.
Although, neither is Riley. Ah, ah, ah, ah.
And neither is your situation. Ha! Heh-heh.
Because you can forget ransom, now you and your friends will die here.
Yeah, speaking of forgetting, couple things. One, these aren't my friends.
Got that right. I mean her, yes, kind of, maybe...
...but there's a lot of weird sexual tension. LANA: Ha!
But these other three, whatever, who cares? I mean, Noah's a slave.
Heh. Yeah, about that-- Noah, not now. And two...
Aha! But I shoot gun many times...
...and in all the excitement, I lose track myself. Ah.
So now you thinking, "Did he fire eight shots, or only--?"
Four, idiot. So get your things, we're leaving.
Okay, can I just run up to my hovel quick and grab the only extant copy of my dissertation?
Noah, still got four bullets. Oh, God, do you know what "extant" means?
You know what "license to kill" means?
I'll write another one.
The world holds its breath.
LANA: Ray? Ray, come on honey, stay with me.
Ray? Ray?
Ray?
ARCHER: Not sure that's helping. Yeah? Well, neither are you!
Lana, I only have two hands.
What I don't have, is all day.
There, I finished. Jeez, damn.
ARCHER: How you doing, Riley? How the hell do you think I'm doing?
Hey, relax, Nick Furious. Save your strength for flying the chopper.
And again, I'm just incredibly sorry.
What's your blood type? Heh. How would I know?
How would you not? Who am I, Karl Landsteiner?
Discoverer of blood groups?
You don't know your own blood type, but you know who discovered them.
Yeah, now.
Your exact words, Pam.
"Dr. Charles Drew, or I will eat a bag of dicks."
Bring them.
And not to diminish the accomplishments of Dr. Charles Drew, but--
Goddamn it, Archer. Ray needs O-positive blood or he's gonna die.
So give him some of yours. I'm A-negative.
Hey, me too. And even if Riley is O-positive--
No, I'm A-negative too. Eh? Blow it up.
--He's already a quart low, so...
NOAH: Oh...
Positive? Yeah.
One of these days, I swear to God, I'm gonna burn this place straight down to the ground.
Oh, my God, yes.
What about this Sunday?
Unless you want people in here, in which case--
CYRIL: Aah! Five-0. Five-O.
Cyril, never mind moving that money.
What money? Oh, really? You sure? Because all I need to do is just--
Re-evaluate your entire life. And yes, I'm sure.
Sterling can get himself out of this jam, for once.
Oh, and don't be here on Sunday, Pam.
Why just me? What's happening Sunday?
Probably my grisly murder, because we still haven't found that password.
Did you try "guest"?
No, Pam, I didn't, because I'm not an id--
Oh, eat a dick.
Bring it.
How much of my blood does he need? I don't know, 10 gills?
What? U.S. or imperial?
Just keep squeezing that gag-ball that I don't wanna know why you have.
Uh, no, you do not.
You will never make it to the helicopter. My men will cut you down like dogs.
Thanks, human shield. Although, where the hell are all your men?
Are you serious?
They're all at the intramural lacrosse finals.
The what? Ow!
Lana, shut up. That's today? Yeah, it's right now. Well, in 10 minutes.
Who's playing? LANA: Archer.
Uh, the Lax-mi Singhers--
They made it to the finals? Uh-huh.
--Versus the Archers of Loafcrosse.
What? That's my team. Archer.
Lana, I'm team captain. I built that team from nothing, and--
Archer. Ray is dying.
Does that mean so must my dream?
I think it's great that for once you're getting out of a jam without your mother's help, but--
Not for once, Lana. Hello? Columbia House.
But remember earlier, when you said you and I were friends?
Of course. I mean, I know we fight a lot, but...
God, now that I think about it, you're my only friend.
Uh, wow.
Right? Yes, Archer, because if you do this--
Please don't make me choose.
--I will never, ever forgive you, and we will never, ever be friends again.
Whoo-hoo-hoo!
Birds-eye view of lacrosse!
Lana. Lana, we got the face-off. Hooray.
Now, can we please get out of here?
Because we are totally vulnerable.
ARCHER: I know, look at our defenders.
LANA: He's not talking about the defenders.
ARCHER: The crease, idiots! Guard the crease!
Lurch, what are you doing?
Middies, come on, get in position!
Oh, shit, they are. No, look, they're all bunched-- Oh. Oh!
Incoming!
Yee... Oh, no!
Wait, Lana. Don't-- Aah!
Get some! Get some, you sons of bitches!
Suck it! No!
Hang on.
ARCHER: Lana! LANA: Archer!
ARCHER: What, Lana? LANA: I--
Nothing. I got you.
You got me. Well, that's just super.
What the hell is your problem?
My problem, Lana, is you just Bonnie and Clyded my starting middies.
Archer, they were-- Redshirt freshmen, Lana, who I was grooming.
But now I guess the Archers of Loafcrosse...
...can forget about the South Pacific lacrosse championships!
Yeah, that's not a thing. If and when that becomes a thing!
Hey, here's a thing. Your mother doesn't know you ran away to be a pirate, so--
No. Lana, seriously, she-- She would literally kill you.
Well, figurative-- Yeah, literally.
So now, for the rest of your idiot life, I've got that on you.
Right? Wow.
NOAH: Oh, my God.
Just screw already. Seriously.
Then kill each other. And then shut up.
And then kill each other again. And call me, so I can watch you do it.
MALORY: Sterling, I don't know how you did it, but--
Well, except for Rip's eye, you got everyone home in one piece.
ARCHER: No thanks to you.
Well, it's about time you did something on your own.
Columbia House Record Club.
Archer, the important thing is that we're home.
And that we spare Malory the details of your time on Pirate Island.
WW. what happened?
Nothing. Well, you know, besides a lot of, um, pretty horrific torture...
...which, Mother, if you had seen, would have broken your heart.
But why dwell on that? We're home.
And my mourning period for, um... Katya?
Is over. So, hey, it's a happy ending.
Yeah. Yeah, it's just a big old goddamn fairy tale.
Fairy tale? Uh, phrasing?
Ray, I'm kidding. Don't be like that.
CHERYL: Ugh, gross. Keep it moving, cripple.
GILLETTE: Shut up. Ray? Ray.
Ray?
Oh, okay. Then I guess just pout.