KGB Colonel: (off-screen) Sterling Archer, codename Duchess... [We hear a MATCH struck. Its flare plays across Archer's face, its light pulses as we hear a CIGAR being puffed. We are in: INT. STONE DUNGEON -- CONTINUOUS Ancient stone walls weeping with moisture. Inky shadows, a faint and far-off scream. A sinister, uniformed KGB COLONEL, 50ish, savors both the aroma of his Cuban cigar and this moment.] Known, from Berlin to Bangkok, as the world's most dangerous spy. So for us, this is... how you say?
Reveal: Archer, sweaty and clad only in a tight pair of Daniel Craig-ian boxer-briefs, three puckered BULLET SCARS visible on his lean muscular chest, shackled by his wrists to the wall.
KGB Colonel: A "good get." (puffs cigar) But not so good for you, Mr. Archer. Because you heff(have) information that I want. And is maybe old cliché, but... [The colonel raises two JUMPER CABLE LEADS, sparks them together.] We heff ways of making you talk.
Sterling Archer: [Archer cocks an eyebrow. We follow his gaze to a CART which holds a DRY CELL BATTERY, wired to the menacing JUMPER LEADS.] What, your little go-cart battery? (KGB Colonel: Golf cart.) Whatever, and would you pick an accent and stick with it?
Crenshaw: (with an American accent) Listen here, you little...
Malory Archer: (O.S.) Son of a bitch!
Archer: Oh, great...
Crenshaw: Now you did it.
SHUNK, SHUNK! Several FLUORESCENT LIGHTS come on. We are in: INT. DUNGEON/CONFERENCE ROOM -- CONTINUOUS The "dungeon" is an elaborate mock-up in an office building conference room. The MANHATTAN SKYLINE is visible outside, and one wall has a large TWO-WAY MIRROR, through which we see: MALORY ARCHER, director of ISIS. She's watching this from her adjoining office, glaring over her nth TOM COLLINS of the day. She is about 60 and impeccably styled, heels to hair; though still beautiful, she radiates an air of steel-clad hardassness.
Ms. Archer: What is the point of these simulations...
Archer: Crenshaw's arousal?
Ms. Archer: ...if you don't take them seriously?!
Archer: How can I? Between his lame accent and the go-cart battery... (Crenshaw: Golf cart!) Shut up! And speaking of lame, my codename...
Ms. Archer: Was chosen at random by the ISIS computer!
Archer: Random?! It was your dog's name!
Ms. Archer: Ohh, Duchess... [Malory picks up a FRAMED PHOTO from the table: a (surprisingly tasteful) B/W PHOTO of a slightly younger, NUDE Malory, posing amid silk sheets with her dear departed AFGHAN HOUND, Duchess.] I loved her so much...
Archer: That it was creepy and pathetic?
Ms. Archer: [Malory lowers the photo, turns her icy glare back to Archer.] And if you were half as smart as she was...
Archer: She wasn't too smart to die from eating chocolate! [Ms. Archer gasps, then] Was she?!
Ms. Archer: Exercise terminated!
Archer: Okay, that's lunch then!
Ms. Archer: Agent performance: unsatisfactory! [SHUNK! The lights return to "dungeon" setting.]
Archer: Oh, come... at worst, that was "Needs Improvement"!
Crenshaw: Jesus, Archer. (Archer: What?) You think this is a game?
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Archer's Brother (Male OC x Archer)
FanfictionFrom an F1 driver to a professional spy. William Charles archer lived "to him" A simple life of action and slight romance. He didn't listen, he only took one thing, pushed himself to his limits and didn't stop. Anyone who put him down he kill anyone...
