(theme music playing)
synced and corrected by Caio www.addic7ed.com
Admiral, what's going on?
Why can't we hear anything?
We're still working out a few bugs.
This is the perfect time to work out a few bugs,
15 minutes before we bomb the shit out of Pakistan.
Does anybody here lip read?
Mr. President, it's not too late to recall.
No, the second you recall, the Israelis will launch their own preemptive strike
to take out those nuclear installations.
At least this way we can control it.
He's right, Walter.
Flight op: 99.
Reports of severe turbulence at all altitudes.
Set max conserve.
I'm gonna heave.
What?
I'm gonna heave, man.
Come on, Glenn. Don't, buddy, no.
Come on, Glenn. No, no.
Man: Jesus.
What the hell was that?
Looked like vomit.
Admiral, find out what's going on up there.
Yes, Mr. President.
- Any word from Haroon Raja? - Nothing.
Shit, if I could just reach the son of a bitch,
he could take down Zaman from the inside.
Okay. I'll keep trying.
I might still have an old family contact number from our Georgetown days.
You mean Raja went to Georgetown with you?
Yeah, he was that kind of cokehead that never paid for it himself.
Cheap bastard owes me.
He did a lot of coke. Lot.
- I never did it, you know. - Of course not, sir.
(shouting)
(shouting in foreign language)
Can I offer you and your men any pistachios?
A fax was sent from this house.
A fax that could greatly jeopardize Pakistan.
You don't say.
If you do not tell me who sent it, you will all be arrested and charged with treason.
- Let go of me. - Guys, chill.
Everyone. Gentlemen, gentlemen.
This family's completely innocent. I'm the one you're looking for.
Now, if you'll please unhand that lovely woman, we can all discuss this over...
I don't know, sponge cake and milky tea? Hm?
I wouldn't get too cute with these guys, because they're kind of like our Gestapo.
Don't worry about it, Rafiq.
Just have to show them this. I'm reaching in my pocket.
No need to shoot.
Boom.
Nothing to worry about. Okay?
That's to inform you that I'm an employee of the U.S. State Department,
and entitled to all diplomatic privileges of the--
Or not.
Contact the embassy and make sure the ambassador knows what's happening.
Don't mention that we destroyed their Mercedes. (groans)
He's coming with us. The rest of you are to remain confined to this house.
My men will be stationed outside so do not try to leave.
You all right back there, buddy?
The pills make me feel like I'm sitting in my own feces,
with vomit dripping all over me.
Well, that's because you are.
Well, that fucking sucks.
Zeke: Sorry, I kind of roofied you there, Jammer.
I think those were the morphine pills I take for my back pain.
Jesus, man, how bad is your back? This shit is intense.
Zeke: 8 years of cramming my 6'4" body into this tiny-ass cockpit?
Pretty fucking bad.
- What the fuck was that? - Oh, my bad, man.
I was cleaning puke off my trigger.
Zeke: This is locking on to something.
No, please, god, no.
(beeping)
- What did that just hit? - It looked like a prehistoric bird.
It's too small to be a plane. It must be some kind of drone.
I'm pretty fucked up so I'll go with drone also.
Flight op: Hammer one-nine, what the hell are you shooting at?
You're 300 miles from target.
Do me a favor, don't fire any more goddamn missiles, okay?
Sitting on my hands... in my own shit.
(sighs)
- (winces) - Mr. Secretary?
Please tell me that's Raja.
No, it's the Indian Foreign Minister.
He's claiming Pakistan just shot down one of their surveillance drones.
Pakistan's denying it was them, but India's not buying it.
- They're getting ready to rumble. - Rakesh.
- (excited shouting) - Yeah, calm down.
No, let's-- Why don't we find out exactly what happened
before we start a holy war?
(mumbling) I am not taking Pakistan's side.
I'm just asking you not to go off half-cock-- Shit!
- Fuck! Shit! - It's happened to me. I can fix it.
Ugh, god. You flushed, right?
No, girl, but I admire your grit.
(stutters)
I don't mean to interrupt.
(mutters) Oh my god.
That's the guy you like, right?
No, I don't like him.
Is it me or is that room like a fucking holding cell for the criminally insane?
They're signing the president up for World War III, and he's letting them.
He needs to grow a pair. Fucking pussy.
Mr. Wilson-- Oh, yeah, it's working.
- Ah. Rakesh? Rakesh? - Rakesh: You hung up on me!
No, no, I did not hang up on you.
Rakesh: You insulted me!
(stammering) That is not an insult. That's a...
an expression. Half-cock does not mean you have half a cock.
It means you have--
Attempting a task without being fully prepared.
- Attempting a-- Attempting a task-- - He hung up.
Who would you like me to get on the phone next?
- My dick doctor. What's that called? - Your urologist.
Wait, are you okay?
No, it feels like I'm fucking trying to shit through my cock.
That's... very... specific.
Greetings, my friend.
Talbot: Howdy.
They taking you in for questioning too?
I wish that were all they were taking me in for.
Sounds like you ended up on the wrong side of the action tonight, like me.
You could say that.
So, uh...
Any words of advice for a first-time political prisoner?
Stick to the truth.
That way, you will have died an honorable death.
Yeah, okay. Thank you.
I guess I'll just have to figure it out on my own.
I have no doubt that you will.
I'm Alex, by the way.
I am Vakeel Bashar,
the democratically elected Prime Minister of Pakistan.
No shit?
Shit.
Does that mean that it's bullshit and you're not the Pakistani--
I'm confused.
I am the democratically elected Prime Minister of Pakistan.
So then you'd say-- never mind. You would say, "No shit."
It could be a double shit negative. My apologies.
That's all right. Lost in translation.
Where are you going?
I gotta get back to the embassy to tell them what happened to Alex.
His soldiers are outside.
I know, that's why I'm gonna go up to the roof and climb across to the neighbors.
Are you out of your mind? We're all going to be shot as traitors.
And why are you helping these people?
Because...
I'm the only friend that that arrogant little imperialist has, okay?
Zaman is going to parade that ignorant jackass to the world as a spy,
and use it to consolidate his power and destroy our country.
Well, there is that too.
You have put this entire family in danger.
You are risking your life for someone who will surely never return the favor,
and you are leaving the house without having eaten anything.
Ma, I'll grab something on the way.
That's all I ask.
Half-cocked is not an insult. It's an expression.
- No, no. - It was a misunderstanding, Harish.
Walter Larson in no way meant to disrespect your foreign minister.
We have to learn all the facts about the shooting down of your drone
before formulating a response.
Now, we are every bit as concerned...
- Raja? - No, I tried your old contact number.
It's now a Chipotle in Karachi.
Intel says that both Raja's parents passed away years ago.
Dead end. Literally.
- Then what? - Your wife is on the phone.
Let's see, talk to my wife
or get torn a new asshole by the president as soon as he hangs up?
Excuse me.
- (shouting on phone) - Hmm?
Lovely job translating.
- Nayyara. - Nayyara.
Thank you, Mr. Secretary.
From your accent I'm guessing Punjabi
by way of London School of Economics?
Hm, very good, sir.
I'm always on the lookout for real talent on my team.
- I'll have someone get in touch. - Okay.
- Love your shoes. - Thank you.
Sir.
- Make sure that's... - She's already in your contacts.
- Hey, darling. - Hey.
Larson: I'm stuck at the White House. For real.
I actually believe you this time. I've been watching the news.
On a slightly less urgent note,
what'd the president say about pushing my judicial nomination through the Senate?
Uh... didn't ask him.
He's a little busy trying to stave off nuclear winter.
Just as well. I'm gonna withdraw.
Who needs their name dragged through the mud by some tired old fucker
from the great state of Montana?
No, you're not withdrawing your name. Be patient.
Well, I'm in limbo.
I've recused all my clients due to conflicts of interest.
I've turned down offers. Meanwhile, I'm stuck in this fucking house
just, literally, running in place.
Well, on the bright side, you're in the best shape you've ever been in.
Well, there is that.
Honey, this appointment is your dream.
It's a stepping stone to the Supreme Court.
Larson: Just like we planned.
Walter, I know you don't want to hear this,
but I'm getting a lot of pressure to make a decision
on this Pentagon General Counsel job.
Mrs. Larson: And I'm considering it.
No, no, honey. You don't want to do that.
We need you on the district court.
Well, great. Then I need you to talk to the president.
I will try to buttonhole him between air strikes.
Thank you.
(chuckles) Love you.
- Love you too. - Love you more.
Well, Mrs. Larson...
gonna work those obliques hard today.
Oh, Billy, put that thing away.
I haven't even had my coffee yet.
(men shouting)
(brakes squeal)
It was a pleasure meeting you, Alex.
Yeah...
Unfortunately, I'm afraid we will not be seeing each other ever again.
For what it's worth, I think you would have made a kick-ass prime minister.
Thank you for listening to my victory speech.
At least it didn't go completely to waste.
It was an amazing speech.
Bashar: I thought so.
I have to say, you're taking all this incredibly well.
Perhaps my death will spur the people of Pakistan
to rise up against Zaman
in righteous insurrection.
Yeah.
Perhaps my death will garner a small blurb in the Dartmouth Alumni Magazine.
Live bravely, Alex.
That way, you will not fear dying quite so much.
(man shouting)
Too late, I'm afraid.
(shouting)
All right, what if we tell them the missile malfunctioned?
What missile?
Nah, they'd just have it checked and know we were lying.
Ooh, that missile.
That was today?
We could tell 'em we thought we were under attack.
- Who was under attack? - Christ, Jammer.
We were under attack?
By the time I get you over these Pakistani nuke sites, are you gonna be straight enough
to deliver these bombs on target or what?
- Sure. - Good.
I just gotta figure out if that's a three or an eight.
- If what's a three or an eight? - It's a three.
- What's a three? - No, that's an eight.
- What's an eight? - My panel, man!
- Oh, wait a minute. (laughs) - What?
It was a bug. (laughing)
We are so fucking fucked.
_
(man screams in distance)
Alex Toolbot.
Talbot.
Towelbutt.
T-Talbot.
- Towelbutt. - Yeah, that's it.
You know, these CIA cover names all sound alike.
What do they do? Open up an Ivy League yearbook to a random page?
(chuckles nervously) It's actually my name.
And I don't work for the CIA. I work for the State Department.
I've been helping NGOs get in country to build clean water projects.
Polluted water, bad. Alex Talbot, good.
I'll make this simple. You could be executed for espionage as a spy
for sending classified information to a foreign government.
Or?
I mean, there's an or, right? There's always an or.
Please tell me there's an or.
Or you can make a videotaped confession
denouncing the United States of America,
admitting you work for the CIA,
and that you were caught while on a mission
to bring down the government of Pakistan.
Let's do that one.
- _ - (Alex mimics)
Did I say that wrong? I was just trying to help.
- (shouts) - Sorry.
(crowd chanting)
Once the soldiers took him away, there was really nothing more that we could do.
Well, you did the right thing by coming by here--
- Samantha? - I'm sorry, Mr. Ambassador.
It doesn't surprise me that Talbot's in over his head.
Actually, it was on my plate this week to get rid of that career dead-ender.
(clicks tongue) Was actually looking forward to it.
And, I get that. Um...
but correct me if I'm wrong, but in order for you to experience the pleasure
of firing him, first you probably need to save him.
Right?
Well, on behalf of the United States Government
and the American people, I want to thank you for all you've done.
But, wait, wait, sir. Alex, his life
- is in danger. - I'm sure it is.
I've been in the Middle East most of my life.
And I've watched, firsthand, as it turned from
an exotic paradise to a Biblical hellhole.
And I believe we're witnessing divine intervention.
- Divine intervention? - Israel is in his sights now.
The Day of the Lord is at hand.
Right, interesting, but how are we going to rescue Alex?
We can pray.
Heavenly Father,
Jesus Lord.
- Protect your people, - (speaking foreign language)
as the enemy attempts to enter your temple--
- and erect a new-- - (speaking foreign language)
as the enemy attempts to enter your temple...
- to erect a New Jerusalem. Pour into me... - (speaking foreign language)
- that I may feel you reign inside of me... - (speaking foreign language)
Son. Son!
I'll do the praying.
Okay.
We offer ourselves to you, O Lord.
(chuckles)
Umair Zaman on the line.
Do I answer it or not?
You think Zaman knows that we're about to
carry out strikes against his nuclear sites?
I don't believe his primary radar would be tracking our aircraft quite yet.
Doesn't matter. Don't answer it.
You have to answer. What if he's calling to capitulate?
You have to know exactly what he's thinking.
- Don't answer it. - Answer it.
Damn it!
Navarro: General Zaman.
President Navarro, good day.
Navarro: I saw your speech earlier.
I fear it was a bit wordy and long-winded.
I'm only just now getting the hang of this.
On the contrary, I thought it was quite direct and eye-opening.
Although, to be honest, I need some clarification on a point or two.
(chuckles) Let's not get too caught up in the formalities.
I only called to say hello. This is really just an ice breaker.
Navarro: But I must ask you about what you said regarding Israel.
Now, what exactly did you mean by, "remove the Zionist threat"?
I cannot elaborate at this time.
But you understand that Israel is an important ally of the U.S.?
Any use of your nuclear strategic forces outside of self defense--
I mean, you're violating all rules of international law.
Oh, let's discuss international law.
Let's discuss the illegal use of the attack drones
that spread dangerous emasculating electromagnetic energy across my country.
We're talking about Israel now, okay?
- Navarro: And I think that we-- - Israel, Israel, Israel.
That's all you Americans care about.
Poor little Israel. Boo-hoo!
Fucker hung up on me.
_
(beeps)
Captain: What was the nature of your mission tonight?
I went to the bazaar to buy souvenirs for my family.
If I don't come home with a Bin Laden t-shirt
for every single one of my 14 nieces and nephews,
I'll never hear the end of it. They like to wear them ironically.
I meant the nature of your mission for the CIA.
I keep telling you, I don't work for the CIA
and I wasn't on any mission tonight.
Stop lying to me!
Fine.
(sighs)
Are you familiar with the Chaghcharan reservoir?
Yes.
I was at the bazaar to procure estrogen.
Estrogen?
You see, over the past several months, we've been slowly introducing
the estrogen into your water supply.
We want your men to grow breasts,
wider hips, and eventually menstruate.
I see.
What is the name of your estrogen contact at the bazaar?
Sanjay Gupta.
(grunts)
- You mock me? - Son of a... Ow.
I'm sorry, I don't know what you want me to say.
The truth doesn't seem to be getting me anywhere.
(shouts in foreign language)
What happens to you now is out of my hands.
What do you mean?
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey, hey, hey!
Hey!
Okay, listen, I just want to say this.
That I am one of U.S. Secretary of State Walter Larson's
most valuable associates,
and if anything were to happen to me
it would most assuredly get his immediate attention.
_
If you fuck with me, you fuck with Walter Larson.
Fuck it. I can't wait for Raja anymore.
When I get to the president, give me a second and then rush over and interrupt me.
Go, go, go.
- Mr. President? - Damn, nobody left me a thing.
With Pierce you gotta get in here fast. He loves preemptive strikes.
Even the rice is all gone? Mr. Secretary?
(whispering)
- Bingo. - You got more rice?
No, Mr. President, I've just managed to make contact with someone
inside the Pakistani government.
A powerful moderate who could help us institute a regime change.
How solid is this?
Solid enough to call off the air strikes.
I'll take it under advisement.
And can somebody please help me get some rice around here?
- Ballsy. - Or suicidal.
I always get those two things confused.
Tilson: Be over target in five minutes, and then it's dump and run.
Please tell me you can read your instruments.
I'm trying, man, I'm trying.
Try harder.
I still can't tell which is the bomb guidance and which is the fuel dump.
Pick one and pray you're right.
All right, I'm gonna hit the one on the left.
No, check that. Actually, just keep trying to figure it out.
Roger that.
When's the last opportunity to recall our air strikes?
Mr. President, we've penetrated Pakistani airspace.
We're five minutes from target.
My god, we're about to fuck an entire country up the ass.
Mr. President, all I need is 24 hours.
- To do what? - None of your fucking business.
Mr. President, imagine where we'd be right now
if JFK had launched during the Missile Crisis.
We'd be the world's only superpower.
Of a charred, scorched earth.
This is it, Mr. President. The kind of moment
that defines a president throughout history.
A moment only greatness can achieve.
I believe you possess that greatness.
- Tilson: Coming up on the target. - Jammer: Fuck.
Jammer: I can't tell if I put in the right coordinates, man.
We might end up taking out a rug bazaar by mistake.
Not much we can do about that now.
♪
Admiral, recall your units.
Pierce: Oh, now, Mr. President...
This is the only chance we'll have before Zaman hides his nuclear warheads.
Then it's goodbye, Tel Aviv.
Walter, I'm giving you 24 hours to show me some results.
Otherwise, we relaunch the air strikes, and this time we don't recall.
Flight op: Hammer 1-9, mission is aborted.
I repeat, aborted. Do you copy?
Roger that, flight op. A-borted.
(sighs)
Flight op: Now you two better get your asses back to fleet, pronto.
Admiral wants to see you. You're in some deep shit.
- Fuck! - Crap.
There goes my pension.
(talking over each other)
...getting some feeling back on the right side of my body.
I gotta see my kids, man!
Bad news is I can't move my left side at all.
For what?
Bowel and bladder control is a complete mystery.
All I ever wanted to be was a jet fighter pilot.
Eyesight's going from triple to double vision.
Now I'm just cheap muscle for a bunch of greedy politicians.
By the way, Z-Pak, I have no fucking idea what you're talking about right now.
(shouting) Please tell me you're straight enough to land this thing.
- Huh? - What?
- Can you hear me now? - No, I didn't say anything.
It was an act of war!
To be fair, your drone had no business flying over Pakistani airspace.
We do not consider that Pakistani airspace, we consider it sovereign Indian territory.
I'm not getting sucked in to that argument right now, Rakesh.
How do you remain so pro-Pakistan when that crazy despot is threatening
- to blow up the world? - I'm not taking sides.
You do this to me all the time. We're talking
about one thing, you make it about another.
- Who are you? My wife? - You insulted me.
- What? Are you still on that? - You're a hothead.
It has always been your problem.
You're the only person in the diplomatic world that talks to me like this.
Well, while we're on the subject,
I can't believe you went and ratted me out to the prime minister.
That was a dick move!
Again you insult me. We have nothing more to talk about.
- We damn well do! - Good day.
Rakesh! (grunts)
They don't give a rat's ass about that drone.
They're just gonna use it as an excuse to invade Kashmir.
Looks like this is moving up to number one on our hit parade.
Gas up the plane. Leave your cat with a friend.
Cancel my dick doctor appointment.
I had to beg to get him to squeeze you in.
He even postponed his trip to Cabo.
Raja or no Raja, I gotta get over to New Delhi and buy some time.
They're not gonna start a war with Pakistan
while I'm over there with my feet on the ground.
- You hope. - And between you and me, I think Zaman might just be crazy enough
- to launch at Israel. - Comforting news.
I'm gonna need a translator on this trip.
- Nayyara? - Good idea.
Smart girl. London School of Economics. Great shoes.
What is your connection to Walter Larson?
I'm his go-to guy.
- Go-to guy? - Mm-hmm.
And he goes to you for what, exactly?
Advice on world events.
Diplomatic strategy. Restaurant recommendations.
I'm very plugged in.
If you're so close to the man, Mr. Go-to Guy,
how come you're not more important in the chain of command at the embassy?
I'm not the kind of guy who expects favors in return for my friendship.
You know, I think that's one of the qualities that drew him to me.
What was that?
I'm guessing it was the end of Vakeel Bashar.
Bashar?
You cannot install a corpse as prime minister, now can you?
I was just with him. He's dead?
(speaks foreign language)
What are you gonna do to me?
Just a little technique we learned from your CIA compatriots.
Apparently, your government does not consider waterboarding torture.
Enhanced interrogation. Sounds harmless enough, no?
No!
(shouts)
No! No! No! No! No!
Flight op: Hammer, bring it right. One, nine, zero.
I can't see a fucking thing.
In line for a court martial, high on morphine.
Hail fucking Mary.
Flight op, talk to me.
Flight op: Hammer one nine, showing you well below glide slope.
Recommend missed approach.
I don't know, man. Maybe we ought to listen to him.
No, I can do this.
Come on, Zeke!
Deep breaths.
Open your eyes.
What the fuck did you eat, man?
Flight op: Well below glide slope.
- Flight op: Hammer, do you copy? - Fuck it.
I got this.
Oh, man, what a time to finally start getting straight.
It's a good thing you already shit your pants, Jammer.
- Flight op: Wave off. - 'Cause this is gonna be a rough landing.
Woman over radio: Crash crew responding.
Flight op: You're low, pull up. You're low, pull up!
Flight op: Add power! Add power!
Guys, guys! The truth.
Yes, I was at the bazaar on a mission tonight
to score weed for a big party at the embassy.
I like to get high with girls, promise them green cards,
and sometimes they let me fuck them.
Not proud, but there you have it.
And, yes, I've always wanted to be in the CIA.
I even applied a few times, but they rejected me, the fucking fuckers.
So really you have no reason to do this.
I'm telling you the truth.
Surely there must be some more important
person you should be waterboarding right now.
I'm just a mid-level foreign service drone.
So then you have no connection to Walter Larson at all?
I do, but I can't really get into the details.
- (shouts) Towel! - No!
Guys, don't. Please take the towel off. I can't breathe.
Oh god! Oh!
These are the couple of aces that puked up their careers all over my goddamn plane?
I'll say this loud and simple; it takes a special kind of idiot
to shoot down an Indian drone.
But it takes a full-blown moron
to do it over Pakistani soil.
You're an embarrassment to the flag,
the Navy, and the apes you evolved from.
- Yes, sir. - Officially, you two are under detention,
pending an investigative tribunal. But up here,
in my head, where it counts,
I just fed your dicks to the goddamn tuna.
Yes, sir.
And we'll be needing a urine sample from the both of you.
- (choking) - Perhaps now you'll be more forthcoming
about your connection with Walter Larson.
(choking)
I'm his pimp!
I procure women for him when he's in Pakistan.
It's the truth, apparently he likes girls to pretend to kill him during sex.
I had to warn them so they didn't actually kill him.
(gasping)
Ah... so.
You do know Walter Larson.
I am General Haroon Raja.
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