Oh God.

I can't believe I hooked up with a caterer at my mom's wedding.

No, Reagan, you have worked hard.

You have earned a fling with a random dude.

Wait a second.

The name is Masters, Rafe Masters.

Why are you saying your name backwards, weirdo?

This guy's a weirdo.

Two martinis, shaken, not stir--

Fuck that! Let's do some fucking shots, bitch!

-Reagan! Reagan!

This one goes out to all the lovers in the crowd.

Oh no.

Mmm.

You may have apprehended those pirates, but I got the booty.

-Blech. -I'll make us an English breakfast.

How do you take your beans?

Yeah, my day is, uh, kind of packed.

I've gotta topple some dictators after this.

Oh shit!

Funny, I don't remember ordering a wake-up call.

Ugh. Smooth move, Reagan.

Try to have a normal, boring fling and end up with a secret agent.

Well, this attack was over easy.

Wait a second. You're walking out on me?

Masters, Rafe Masters?

Yeah, this guy's a fucking legend.

Super nice meeting you.

We should totally do this again sometime.

How about an unspecified time that never comes up?

Okay, bye!

Oh, my other shoe.

Taxi.

Hey, Reagan.

-Hey, girl. There she is.

You were fucking hilarious last night.

I hereby bestow my title of office wildcard to you, Reagan.

-So, how was it? -How was what?

Oh, come on.

We saw you making out…

…with the Masters, Rafe Masters.

Please stop saying it like that.

We need to know everything. What's his pube situation?

Do his condoms look like little tuxedos?

What happens in the bedroom is nobody's business except Congress.

But in this case, I'll allow it. Dish, girl.

Guys, there's not much to tell.

Forgettable sex, only five or six casualties, a fling.

Ugh, I've always wanted to be a superspy.

I used to watch all the James Bond movies.

I even had a secret identity.

In public, my parents would tell people I was someone else's kid.

Yeesh.

Brett's repressed trauma aside, it was just a one-night thing.

I… I'll probably never even see the guy again.

Well, hello, all.

Holy shit.

Team, I'm not sure if you remember Agent Masters,

but seeing as he really saved our bums

during that whole flat-Earth pirate situation…

That was me.

I made an explosive out of an Amazon Alexa.

…we're going to be helping him out with an MI6 mission,

stopping his evil nemesis, Dr. SkullFinger,

who, by the way, currently resides in a gorgeous

seven-bedroom, eight-bathroom lair with 360 ocean views…

Scoundrel.

…from unleashing a powerful mind-control device

on the populace.

But we use mind control all the time.

Like our memory erasers.

Just this week, I used one on myself

to forget the ending of Breaking Bad so I could rewatch it.

Walt dies, Jesse lives, big deal.

Goddamn it.

But SkullFinger's device is far more powerful.

This thing can wipe your whole mind clean.

It's way more evil. So we have to eliminate the competition.

Reagan, I want you designing Rafe's gadgets

and running point from the surveillance boat.

-Mmm.

Hey, let me know if you need a bitchin' Spotify playlist.

Oh my God, a Spot-i-spy playlist.

Oh, oh!

I'll make the puns around here, thank you.

Please like me.

Rafe, so glad to be working with you.

Yes, I can't wait to bond, Team Bond.

-Hey, laughing is great.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I cannot believe this.

I can't work with someone I've hooked up with.

Can't you just tell him you're not interested?

You're usually Miss Brutal Honesty.

Remember when you made Glenn cry at his own birthday?

I was dancing too confidently, and I needed to hear it.

It's different with relationships.

Everybody I've ever broken up with

makes me feel like the bad guy just for being direct.

Took the liberty of grabbing an extra pudding cup for my pudding.

You're boring! You're fucking boring, Steve.

And the only thing keeping us together is inertia,

and I feel more attachment to this disposable fork than I do to you!

-You monster.

Boo.

From now on, my new strategy is to avoid hurt feelings,

send zero signals, and just hope the guy gets the message.

-Rafe?

I guess I couldn't bear to leave.

What the hell? Did you…

-Did you bring that from home? -What do you mean?

You literally dragged an entire bearskin rug in here.

-Yes. -Just so you could make that pun?

-Yes. -You got that rug--

-Right. -Put it in your car--

Drove over here, correct.

So you could say, "I couldn't bear to leave."

Bear to leave, right.

I'm confused. I… is sex happening?

To the left.

Now a little… a little to the right.

Okay. Now make your entrance as quietly as possible.

Nice of me to drop in.

-Rafe, what the fuck?

You're supposed to be a secret agent.

And why are you wearing a tuxedo?

This is a covert mission. It's not the Emmys.

Sorry, love. Loudly is the only way I know how to enter.

-Come on, man. -Awesome.

Can we just keep things professional, please?

Twelve bogeys approaching.

-Initiate shoe-merang. -Shoe-merang?

It was kind of a name came first, idea came second kind of thing.

Sorry, gentlemen, just need to tie these laces.

May God rest your soles.

-Yes!

This man is the Michael Jordan of casual murder.

Okay, Rafe, now you just need to find the machine.

Well, if it isn't the constant thorn in my side, Rafe Masters.

Dr. SkullFinger.

Seems I've managed to penetrate your defenses.

I assure you, that's the last thing you'll be penetrating.

Are you sensing kind of a… vibe between these two?

Ugh. I don't know. Everything this guy says is horny.

Behold Project Gaslight.

Looks like a dick.

-Beat you to it.

Ever since I fell in that vat of skulls and became wickedly twisted,

I dreamed of this day.

Rafe, it's time. Release the nanobots.

SkullFinger, prepare to receive my load.

Okay, yeah, I do hear it.

What? No, my beautiful machine!

Where on earth did you acquire such advanced technology?

From my new girlfriend.

-Whoa, we did not discuss that.

Damn you, Masters.

I couldn't have done this without your wonderful gadgets, Reagan,

and now that we've gotten rid of the skull,

it's time to finger.

Okay, fuck it, I gotta break things off with this guy.

Rafe, okay, we need to talk. The boat was fun.

Especially the sex part.

Uh-huh. The thing is, that night,

I was just trying to get something out of my system.

What I'm trying to say is this has run its course.

Wait a second, are you breaking up with me?

How could you treat me like this

after leading me on with all those gadgets?

Is she abusing that man?

What a heartless woman.

-Misandry strikes again. -Why?

-Why?! -What?

No. I'm not breaking up with you.

Phew. Okay.

Because I have some very exciting news.

I've actually been checking out houses in DC

so I could move here indefinitely.

What?!

This is totally fine.

So let me get this straight.

You finally get laid by the first guy this year

who doesn't run on a charger,

and you want to ditch him?

The guy is totally smothering me.

I just want Dr. No Fucking Clue to Brexit my life

without me having to feel guilty about it.

I don't understand this at all. You're so lucky.

I'd do anything to spend more time with Rafe. Has he mentioned me?

Girl, if you wanna really get rid of this dude,

there's only one solution left.

-Ghost Protocol.

Ghost Protocol?

You use Cognito's resources to fake your own death

then go off the grid until he moves on.

Trust me, this is how I've helped

all the biggest dead celebrities escape the spotlight.

The world thinks Tupac and Biggie are gone,

but they're living their best lives

in Upstate New York with three Pomeranians.

-Aw. -We've all used the program for ourselves.

I ghosted Ann Coulter.

She made me role-play as a liberal just so she could drink my tears.

Uh, I used it too.

I had to ghost my old Burning Man crew at the Orgy Dome.

What's the point of anonymous sex

if you add each other on Facebook afterwards?!

He loved tripping on mushrooms, but once he was high,

he'd make me watch these Jordan Peterson videos with him.

I had to end it.

So, what do you think?

Hmm.

Fake my death to avoid getting texts from a man.

Fuck it.

Ghost Protocol me.

Oh wow.

What a kitchen.

Is the stove gas or electric?

Oh, it's magma-powered.

Of course.

Pots and pans, plots and plans.

Oh, and is that a doggy door for henchmen?

You're telling me SkullFinger tore up the original hardwood?

What a monster.

The granite is so elegant though, isn't it?

Makes it so much easier to clean up human remains.

Well, I'm sold. Where do I sign?

Just in blood, right here.

I can drain the employee pension fund,

buy this place for cheap,

and start a tasty little Airbnb side hustle.

Jesus. I've been in the evil real estate game for 15 years,

but that man's a psycho.

Rafe, over here.

-Reagan. -I can't wait to go on our second date.

Oh no! What's that?

Lock and load, Noel.

Reagan!

No!

-I've been shot so much!

No!

Reagan!

I loved her, and she fell in garbage and exploded.

Oh my goodness. What a sudden, elaborate death.

But what do I know?

I'm just a very hot and very single onlooker.

Hell yeah, I'm dead!

I've never felt more alive.

Here, you've earned this.

No!

But maybe yes.

Okay, the crisis actors are all in place.

These are pre-written eulogies. Please recite them verbatim.

"Hi. I'm Andre. Gee, I hope I don't roll this eulogy up and smoke it."

Is this what you really think of me?

I'm not just a drug guy, you know? I speak Latin.

-Yeah, sure. -Uh-huh.

Whatever, dude, you love weed. We get it.

"Reagan Ridley had a brilliant mind,

but she also knew how to rock a bold lip."

You wish.

"Reagan was an American hero."

"We didn't agree politically, but…"

Hmm, just ends there.

What can I say about Reagan

that I haven't already written on a bathroom stall at work?

Why? Why?!

Time to enjoy my death and catch up on some Great British Bake Off.

Hey, man, I know you're hurting. Is there anything that could cheer you up?

Driving a tank through a bombed-out Soviet village?

Choking someone out with a cumberbund?

Oh, thank you. Brett, was it?

But no, the only thing that could bring me peace

is finding Reagan's killer.

-Right, her killer.

Well, um, I, uh, guess it could be anyone.

Do you wanna hear my confessions?

-Oh come on. -Ashes to ashes, motherfucker.

You know, now that you mention it, Brett, everyone here is acting a little strange.

What? No, they're-- I didn't mean to imply--

Yes, it's like they don't even care Reagan's dead.

Something's not right here.

Probably best not to speculate.

Brett, thanks specifically to your observations,

I'm starting to think this may have been an inside job.

Uh…

Ha, I get it.

I'm gonna get to the bottom of it, but I'm gonna need a hand, an agent hand.

-What do you say?

You want me to help you?

Oh my God, am I dreaming? This is the best day of my life!

So sorry for our loss.

You just got ashed, sucker!

And so that's the difference between a macaroon and a macaron.

It's crazy, right?

Fascinating. You need to ante.

Guys, being dead? Best thing that's ever happened to me.

I get to binge-watch TV. I don't have to answer any texts.

I blew off jury duty.

I'm almost gonna be sad when Rafe goes back to the UK.

-Did you hear that?

Where is the confounded valet?

Oh my Go-- What is he doing here? Who told him about poker night?

-Uh-huh.

-Damn it, Brett.

Oh, wow, awesome. Ejector seat.

Do any of these buttons dispense Advil?

They're coming! You gotta hide me.

I just disappear you. It's on you to stay disappeared.

Goddamn it, can't even enjoy my death in peace.

Hey, dudes.

My new, uh, partner here insisted on coming to poker night,

and I couldn't think of any believable reasons why he shouldn't.

Mind if I enter your little game?

I brought $100,000 in nonsequential, unmarked bills.

Uh, it's a five-dollar buy-in.

Welp, I am gonna grab a brewski

and, uh, a seltzer for him.

Shaken, not stirred.

-You want me to shake the seltzer? -I drink everything shaken!

Now, let's play.

What is he still doing in town?

He says he wants to find your killer,

and, uh, he maybe kind of sort of thinks someone on the team is involved.

-And why would he think that? -I don't know.

They were acting pretty suspicious at the funeral.

On the bright side, I'm learning so much spy stuff.

Rafe taught me how to blow up a vault with a motorcycle.

It involves more vodka than you'd think.

-Hey, what are you doing?

All right, I'm all in.

-Dude. -What the fuck?

We said five bucks, man.

I call.

Interesting.

Unlike everyone else here, you have no tells,

and in my line of work,

those tend to be the people with the most to hide.

Tell me where Reagan's killer is! What do you know?

Damn, why am I always attracted to crazy?

Not one more word, or your little sidekick here gets it

at the hands of the nefarious, uh,

Strainer Face.

Strainer Face?

Yes, that checks out.

Just as I suspected, you were harboring Reagan's killer.

You should just give up and move on with your life.

Maybe take a pottery class or something.

I'll never give up. Reagan wouldn't have wanted me to.

How are you so wrong all the time?

-Oh. -Henchmen, roll out.

Goddamn Strainer Face.

They left me?

I… I mean… I mean, escaped us.

We'll track them down. I have my methods.

But in the meantime, if you're going to be a superspy,

you need to be able to defend yourself in situations like this.

-I want to give you something. -A gun?

Even better. This is a special timepiece that emits a cloud of knockout gas.

It was the last spy gadget Reagan ever made me.

So you get a pistol, and I get a little watch that farts?

-Yes, that's basically it. -Okay, okay, I'm into it.

Yes, that's right.

Divert the entire pension fund into my personal account.

It's not embezzling. It's a surefire investment.

I'm invezzling.

I mean, this is America.

This is barely illegal.

-Fucking tight-ass.

Alan, it's J.R.

Have I got an opportunity for you.

Are you still looking for an island where you can hunt interns for sport?

Better snap it up before Oprah does.

Gigi, thanks for letting us crash at Tupac and Biggie's old safe house.

You can really tell they weren't getting along at this point.

Reagan, this is not a long-term solution.

Look at us. No one can agree what to watch on TV.

Glenn has totally destroyed our snack supply.

What? I stress eat.

Yeah, Reagan. We're all hiding in a panic room

from your psychopath boyfriend.

It's time to call it. Pull the Band-Aid.

Oh, really? Would you tell Joe Rogan the truth?

I mean, he would probably say the truth is a spectrum,

and I would tell him that makes no sense,

and then he'd put me into a headlock, get insanely high,

and then jump into a sensory deprivation tank, so no.

And, Andre, I assume you're gonna be telling

that insane sex cult where to find you?

Oh God, no.

I really don't have the emotional bandwidth

for multiple sex cults right now.

See? You're all hypocrites.

We've all ghosted people, and this is the craziest one of them all.

I am telling you, we just need to wait him out.

In breaking news, supervillain SkullFinger was captured at his island lair,

which is on the market…

Or find him a distraction.

It's you. How'd you get in here?

You'd be shocked what a combination

of science and feminine wiles can accomplish.

AI mission assist reports zero seductions.

Okay, fine, it was all science.

Look, I'm here to bust you out so you can be Rafe's nemesis again.

I've heard the way you guys talk to each other.

You are meant to be together.

Oh, honey, no, thanks.

I actually realized that whole hero-nemesis thing

was, like, super toxic.

I mean, the guy was obsessed with me.

-Honestly, he's-- -A bit much.

A bit much, yes.

Plus, life in here is way easier. I'm doing yoga, learning to cross-stitch.

I'm even catching up on Great British Bake Off.

It's amazing, right?

Macarons and macaroons. I had no idea.

I know.

Well, I get it.

At this point, I just wish the guy would forget about me completely.

You know, if that's what you want,

you could always just rebuild Project Gaslight.

The blueprints for it are still at my volcanic island lair.

While you're at it, would you mind feeding my evil cat?

I've never wiped someone's mind completely blank.

-It seems-- -Evil?

You are a mad scientist, are you not?

I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed.

But you do want to take over the world, right?

Everyone wants that.

Honey, denial isn't just a river I tried to steal with a laser.

I'm a good person. I just need to finish this one thing. I'll need some--

-Henchmen? -Friends.

Let's keep it up, guys.

After this, we can go back to our normal lives.

Reagan, do we really have to build this huge machine? Can't you just milk me?

Jesus, Myc, that is your solution for everything.

We have to brainwash Congress. Milk me.

There was a terrorist attack. Milk me.

It's not enough.

Rafe is hardwired with decades of codependency and toxic masculinity.

-On top of that, he's obsessed with me. -Brag.

Fixing this is gonna take something stronger.

Well, you don't have to insult my goo.

Well, hey there, little buddy. I--

-Oh, ow! Goddamn evil cat! God!

I'll be right back. I'm gonna raid SkullFinger's closet for a clean shirt.

Could I pull off a black turtleneck?

You guys would tell me if I couldn't pull that off, right?

Oh!

Nothing like the intimacy of a tandem jump.

I feel so close to you.

Ah!

-Oh. Excellent work, Agent Hand. -Oh.

Now, remember your training,

and you'll be getting your double-0 status in no time.

Wow, so you mentioned me to MI6?

Oh, well, I mean, not yet, but I'm going to,

just as soon as we're done with this mission.

Once I find that killer,

I'm going to shoot so many people, it will make the American news.

Oh man.

Knock, knock. Who's there?

Death.

-And Brett. -How did you find us?

I simply activated my tracker in Reagan's cell phone.

You installed a tracker in Reagan's phone?

Uh, yes, obviously. I do that in every relationship.

-Don't you guys? -No, I don't.

-That's fucked up. -That's being a stalker.

Whatever, I'm a spy.

-Now, where is the man

who killed my girlfriend? Where is he?

Not so fast, Rafe.

Brett. But why?

If being a secret agent means that I have to be like you,

then I don't want to.

You're not suave and cool. You're insecure.

-And honestly, kind of a huge misogynist. -Uh, yeah.

-A little bit. -Totally.

It's almost like guys with weapons are compensating for something.

Hell yeah!

This bad boy's got some fucking firepower!

Whoo! What? What'd I miss?

So, unfortunately, Agent Masters,

your time has run out.

-Nice pun. -Well-done.

-Tagline worthy. -Mm-hmm.

What's happening? What's going on?

What's wrong, Rafe? Don't like being tied down?

You know, this look is actually an improvement for you.

Shit, that stings.

Wait a second. Reagan?

But… but you're dead.

Yeah, and yet you still stalked me here.

I mean, what is it gonna take?

I was just trying to avoid being the bad guy.

And I guess I can see how that turned out.

What are you going to do to me?

Well, I was going to erase every woman you've ever dated.

No, not Chesty McThong and Bosoms Naturale and Nora Gag Reflex.

But I've learned that sometimes the hard thing is the right thing.

Rafe, I faked my death because you're a clingy psycho.

No, that's not possible. I'm universally regarded as charming.

You are a corny, regressive stereotype,

and the only people who think you're cool are dads or people that didn't have dads.

Damn, that is accurate.

And more than that,

I don't think that we have good sexual chemistry either!

For a guy who's been with thousands of women,

you really don't seem to know what you're doing down there!

What is this, mind games?

This is an honest conversation with a woman.

Stop, it's torture!

You know what? It's time that I did the right thing too.

-Hello, Ann.

I didn't die in a tuna net on Deadliest Catch.

I just didn't wanna see you anymore.

Hello. Orgy Dome? It's Andre.

I should have had the balls to end things with you face-to-face

and ass-to-ass.

Hey, Rogan, why don't you ask Jamie to pull up a clip of me dumping your ass?

Reagan, I'm sorry for picking Rafe over the team.

I got caught up in the spy game,

and, well, I guess I was just too damn good at it.

Brett, you were terrible at it.

But it's okay. I'm sorry for leaving you with that psycho.

So, what do we do about him?

I'll take it from here.

-What are you doing here? -Something you said stuck with me, Reagan.

You're right. Rafe and I are meant to be.

SkullFinger? What are you going to do to me?

Well, first of all,

I'm going to use a solar-powered laser to burn off your testicles.

And then?

Uh, do you guys wanna get out of here before this gets weirder?

-Immediately. -This is an abomination.

-I was already leaving. -I would like to stay and watch, actually.

Guys, thanks for helping me out back there.

I promise I will make it up to you when we get back to the--

-What are you doing here? -What are you doing here?

-Well, I was just-- -We were just--

-We're taking the helicopter. -All righty, see you Monday.

Should one of us have warned J.R. what he's about to--

Who cares? We're off the clock.