I swear I had something for this.

[CW: mention of cancer]

For those of you who don’t know me, hi. Sterling Archer, ISIS top agent, world’s most dangerous spy. And if you don’t believe that ask Bond, since I beat the shit out of him. I’ve recovered nuclear material, assassinated enemy agents, fought arms dealers, space pirates, killer cyborgs, the Yakuza, North Korean terrorists, and the KGB. I’ve been poisoned, declared legally dead, beaten breast cancer, and been shot twenty-two times – all before I got on the Barge. Long story short, I am a huge badass.

My adventures on the Barge are pretty awesome too but I don’t need to tell you that. Chris, Rogue, and Morgana can do that for me – right, guys?

Anyway, chalk up another tally in the badass column: I, Sterling Archer, have beaten the Barge. [Check out his brand-spanking new shower stall and redwood Japanese soaking bath!] Check it out, dickwads, I graduated! And it only took me a couple months. …Several months. Less than a year. So I’m going to go home to keep kicking bad guys’ asses and also check in on Lana. Because she’s pregnant and that’s kind of a big deal.

…The point is, I’m badass.

Rogue, you promised me a goddamn cake.

Hey. Zero people -- you guys, the jackasses flipping cards and winning hands all night. Yeah, you.

One of you has my shoe.

I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you want. If you’re looking for the other one, I can tell you you’re not getting it. If you give it back now, that’ll be the end of it. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will mess up all the shit you own.

[This is a very slight change of pace from normal. Archer is up, be-suited, and holding a scotch on the rocks in his hand with the bottle tucked under his arm. The unusual part is that he's not in his room or the pub, he's outside the chapel. The very unusual part is that he's not drunk.]

Chances are no matter who you are on board, and no matter how shitty the place you came from is, someone died trying to make it better. Maybe lots of people. Maybe some of you died trying to help your country or your cause. And maybe people just don't talk about it because they don't want to think about people dying so they could have something good. Which is shitty.

So.

[Archer holds the glass out at arm's length and overturns it onto the ground, somberly.]

Pour one out for the guys who aren't here and remember the people who died. Here's to the vets.

Why're you guys all so freaked about this?

Seriously. This was MirrorBarge. As in mirror of the Barge. It's just us but worse, idiots. We know the MirrorBarge, we've been there, and except for some of you getting insomnia nothing bad carried over. It's like a fucking flood, you guys.

We got through it. We'll do it again. Especially if we can rack up some flamethrowers or something to make it more even.

[For a split second there is darkness, and a muffled "Shit, hold on - hold on, I got it" in Archer’s voice. When he gets his hand off the camera and holds the communicator up properly he’s in his natural state (drunk), behaving normally (drinking), leaning up against a chair propping up Gary’s feet.] Hey Barge, help us out with something.

[Gary is draped over both of the chairs in Archer’s room and endeavoring to take up as much space as is humanly possible. He flips the camera a lazy salute. He is also drunk. His sunglasses are on his head. It’s a party.] We wanted to know, what are some things you’ve done? Or haven’t done? What- what are the things -

[He trails off into giggling. Archer guffaws, raising a tall glass filled with a thick pale green substance in a toast.] Mmmm. So. - Yeah, anyway, we’re playing a game. And we’re going for the record, right, buddy?

I’ve no fucking idea, [Gary replies, grinning like an idiot and finishing off his own glass.]

Jesus Christ, really? We’ve been playing this for - holy shit, four hours and eight minutes. Do you seriously think anyone’s ever played Never Have I Ever for this long before? [Archer pauses thoughtfully.] Have any of you ever played Never Have I Ever for four hours and eight minutes? [He anticipates a no, raising his Green Russian expectantly.] We’re kinda running out of questions.

[Gary reaches down to swat at Archer’s shoulder to get his attention.] Oh, waitwaitwait. Never have I ever kept a Never Have I Ever game going this long!

Except you totally have now! [Archer greets this with a cheer, punching the air as he drains down the rest of the drink in one go.]

[OOC: Truth flood joint post with this_corrosion! Both Gary and Archer are affected. Replies may come from either or both of them.]

[Backdated to earlier today]

[The first thing that's visible is a close-up of a bright blue cat's eye. It pulls back, showing that it belongs to a sleek, short-haired lilac-point Siamese. She looks distinctly unimpressed, aiming an unamused stare at the communicator before turning to speak.] You're on, Sterling.

Shut up. [Archer grabs the communicator and glares down at it. A few notes: he's dressed in Victorian clothing, a very fine waistcoat and cravat; he's speaking with an English accent; and he is uncharacteristically badly-groomed, all messy hair and rumpled sleeves. There's also the talking cat.] Is this a joke? Since you've somehow managed to abduct me here, the least you could do is make sure the accommodations are livable. Look!

[He pans the camera over his cabin, which is just as modern and fancy as it normally is. It just looks lived-in, bed unmade and clothes thrown on the floor, a few books and empty bottles on the tables.] See? Filthy! I've seen neater huts built by savages on primitive islands. If this place is meant to be so special, one would think there'd be staff.

Somebody get a maid in here. You don't want me to contact my mother.

Oh my God, it's like one of those random video chat sites. Any moment now, some dude in a trailer park is going to pop up -- phrasing, boom -- and start jacking off.

Hey. So, Sterling Archer here, ISIS agent, checking in from the worst way station. Anyone out there? Who is preferably not an idiot from work? Before replying, please check that you are A. Interesting. B. Hot, C. Funny, or D. All of the above.

And before you ask, no, this is not a voicemail. …Videomail. Shit, video answering service? Whatever you call it, it's not one of those.

[This time, Barge, you do not get treated to the sight of Archer's face. This is because his recent coma just saw his initiation into another grand Barge tradition: being drawn on while passed out.]

Okay so that's not the first time I've spent a holiday passed out, but it still kind of sucks. At least I missed the community koombayah where everyone goes around saying what they're thankful for. Spoiler alert, nothing.

Are there still leftovers? Is the Wild Turkey gone?

If not, and if anyone needs me, I'll be in the spa and then Rogue's bathroom. With the door locked and the radio on. And the hot water running. For several hours.

Jesus, you guys are like a bunch of frat kids.

Okay okay, my turn! Hold on a second, I have to get the formula right. [A cough to clear his throat, a deep breath, a beat, and scene:]

Introduction in the form of a question or request.

Segue into the difficulty of living here. Complaint about corruption and incompetence. Singling out of specific people for both categories. Query whether it's always this fucked up.

Curious ponderment about the Admiral. Invitation to share theories about the weird shit happening right now because it's so freaking different than the other weird shit that happens.

Thinly veiled threat meant to prove badassery to other inmates.

Witty quip with a double meaning, aaaaand hang up. [And scene.]

Did I miss anything?

Seriously? Is that what everyone was so excited about, a bunch of people going nuts because someone messed with them? That happens everywhere! Why the hell didn’t you guys tell me about the goddamn Victorian city I was doomed to wander around, complete with my own freaking Hobbes?! I mean, we didn’t exactly have any sled conversations, but it was pretty obvious someone was playing around with the Calvin thing. [Did we mention he‘s in the pub and holding a Scotch? Because he is and he sips at it now. Yes, he’s essentially drunk-dialing the Barge -- this is a pattern he will probably follow for the duration of his time on board.] Which reminds me, who do I talk to about getting a cat?

Or getting my liquor cabinet restocked. Or my gun locker. And don’t give me some bullshit metaphysical answer like “you can’t talk to who’s in charge” or “you just have to wait”. I am neither a deist nor a Supremes fan. Oh, you know what else is bullshit? Detaining prisoners without charges! I get that we’re doing Archer in Wonderland, what I don’t get is why!

[He fumes at the camera for a minute before taking another drink of Scotch, which seems to have a calming affect almost immediately.] Because if I don’t get to talk to someone official I’ll assume it’s parking tickets. That, or banging that stuntwoman on the hood of that cab. ‘Cause let’s face it, I haven’t really done anything wrong.

-- Oh, shit, this isn’t about Woodhouse, is it? Come on! He’s not even people!

Is there anything else about this shitshow I should know?