01x04 - Episode 4

[bunniefuu]

-I can't.

-But I really need to.

-Get out, or I'll call the warden.

-It hurts!

-I can't.

I'd help you — I can't, you understand?
They forbade it.

I can't anymore, they could fire me.

Just endure it. Endure it.

-Finished! Cut more!

-Soaking it in soda will enhance
the fire-resistant effect of the tarpaulin.

The water will evaporate,
and the soda will penetrate deep into the fabric.

-And then?

-Take a sponge.

And wipe it like this, without missing anything.

Got it?
-Uh-huh.

-That's it, you do the rest yourself.
They're waiting for me, I have to go to Yana.

-Don't leave me here alone.
-Try not to get caught. Two days left.

-No-no, wait, dear.
You don't need to wash her anymore.

Enough. Or they'll have to wash you next.

Move it to building three.

Why are you standing there frozen, you cr*pple?

Plotnikova!

-What are you looking at?

Go!

-Why are you standing there, you idiot?

Need anything else?

Oh! Relatives sent coffee!

-Hey, where to?
-What do you mean "hey"?

I'm saying relatives sent me coffee.

Come on, let's watch TV and enjoy ourselves.

What are you doing?
-Why do I need coffee?

-How should I know why.
-Poke holes.

-Maybe so we don't get high from the smoke.
Who the hell understands your tricks.

Like this?
-Like that.

-More?
-More.

-What the hell are we doing?
-You'll see now, give me the can.

-Maybe that's enough?
-Cut it like this.

-Like this?
-Uh-huh.

-What is this?
-A gas mask.

You promised to show me how to get Yana out.

-They'll catch us.

-I won't run without Yana.

-Damn, you're really crazy.

And our guards never even knew
we unscrewed the ventilation cover.

By the way, when the girls broke your friend's
fingers — they got in the same way.

-So you knew?
-Of course I knew.

They were good women.
Pity they transferred them all.

From now on, keep quiet. Got it?

-Why is she here?

She's running with us, that's how it turned out.

Tomorrow evening, during the concert.

-I can't walk.

-Then I'll carry you on my back.

-No. I'll be in the way.

You promised to save Vera.
-I will save her.

You first. Then you — her.

-Girls, there's going to be a patrol, I can feel it.
-I'm going.

-Remember I told you
how Anton's mother gave us an icon?

Anton set up three crypto wallets.

Anyway, I'm going. I wasn't here.

-Tomorrow evening.

I'll come for you.

-You're not listening to me!

The icon is at Tsapkova's house.

The access keys are right on the back.

You have no idea how much money is there.
You have to find it.

For Vera. For my daughter. For yourself.

-I can't leave you here like this.

-You can't.

Help me

leave without pain.

This will be the last lesson.

-No.

-Please.

Please.
-No, I won't.

-Please!

The buds never used to appear before March.

Climate changes are noticeable here in everything.

In the republic, flamingos have been
staying for the winter for years now...

-Get me a large dose.
-What?

-I need it.

Do you really want this?

-Thank you.

The German woman will k*ll you
at the first opportunity.

Zhenya.

You shouldn't take revenge.

Find another meaning.

-You scared me!

What are you doing here?

-What-what. Listening to the silence.

-What's up for tomorrow?

-What-what. The women are waiting for the holiday.

-What holiday. It's just an imitation.

-Come on, give me the shoes.

They don't fit on your hooves.

-"Hooves"! Go on, little one.

I'll swell up, but I'll be beautiful!

Oh-oh-oh!

-Oh, Zhenka!

No one's ready, everyone's singing off-key.

We'll be biting each other's elbows.

-Ah, I love holidays!

-What are you doing, b*tch? Thought I didn't know
you were scheming behind my back?

-Have you lost it?
-Think I don't know

what you get up to in the utility room?
They're preparing for the concert!

What? What the ***?

What are you, b*tch?

-Break it up! Petrova, calm down!

Calm down! Lena!

Haven't been to solitary in a while, have you?

-Both of them to solitary.
-Have mercy, boss, I didn't start it.

At least let me see the girls,
then lock me up till summer if you want.

I'll be quiet as a mouse.

"Quiet as a mouse," you fool!

Fine, take this one.
-Come on, get up.

-What are you staring at? Move it, move it!

Need a special invitation or what?

-I'm waiting for that idiot over there.

-Well, my sweet one, we're all waiting for you!
We can't start without you!

-And now performing for you is Olya Sokolova

with a song about our street of three houses!

-Olga!

-How's our little one, growing?

-Quiet! Quiet! We're starting!

-Come on, don't hold back!

-Ah, how I long to return,

Ah, how I long to rush into the little town!

To our street of three houses,

Where everything is simple and familiar, for a day.

Where they visit without asking,

Where there's no envy or malice, dear home.

Where they celebrate births

And see off forever with the whole yard.

Time-time swirls the snows,

And the neighbors have scattered who knows where.

And when they demolished the houses,

You and I, my friend, joked — no big deal.

Once a year a sparse letter,

Christmas greetings and long life.

Exactly eight quiet lines,

And some other handwriting — that's it, goodbye.

Ah, how I long to return...

-Attention! Attention!

Remain calm! To the exit!

Stay calm!

Through both doors!

Stay calm!

-Sokolova, get off the stage!

-Silence! Don't crowd!

Silence, I said!

Hurry up, grandma!
-I'm coming, I'm coming.

Breathe slower.

Let's go, let's go, there's less smoke upstairs.

Stop!

Take it off!
-You won't get through without me.

-I said take off the mask!

Give me the tag. Give me the tag!

Put the cross on.

I said put the cross on, b*tch!

-Okay.
-Quickly!

Quickly!

A-a-a!

And I tell Natasha, everything's expensive there.

Everything's expensive everywhere now.

It's easier not to live than to live.

Like those idiots —
jumped into the fire and no more problems.

-They started the fire themselves — burned themselves.

I'll be on the night shift tomorrow.

-Again?

-No-no, Seryoga said, another box.
Put it in the third one over there.

For the first time since 1991

an escape has been carried out
in a Russian women's colony.

Two inmates started a fire
and, taking advantage of the chaos, tried to escape.

As a result, the first inmate,
Evgenia Plotnikova, born 1995,

did not make it out of the fire and died.

The second inmate, Yulia Dulova,
born 1972, convicted of m*rder,

is currently on the federal wanted list.

If you encounter this woman,
report it to the police immediately.

Hey?

Who are you?

-Move over a bit?
-Of course, have a seat.

-Thank you.

-Hello. Your passports.

-Lord, why is it so hot in here?
-Yeah, their AC broke.

To be honest, I'm already stunned by it too.

-Have you been sitting here long?

-About an hour.
-Lord, what a nightmare.

You could die in here.

-And what's that book you have?

-It's the Quran. I'm learning Arabic.

-Whoa, no kidding! What for?

-Well, just in case.

Just need it for a new job.

It's very convenient here —
Russian on one side, Arabic on the other.

-So, have you learned it?

What's this?
-Oh, better not translate it.

And what about you? Handling something?

-Yeah.

Coming into an inheritance.

-That's a good thing.

Want an Arabic riddle?

-Go ahead.

-So.

There lived a queen.

And she had a son who was basically a fool.

And a pitiful little kingdom.

Basically nothing there.
One and a half servants and half a palace.

And the queen says to her son.

Go, my son, to the city.

To the dangerous city, full of scoundrels.

Find a child-k*ller there

and tell him that if he gives us his treasure,

which according to legend
is completely covered in blood...

-Lord, what kind of stupid fairy tales
are these of yours?

-Mom, wait, the man's telling a story.

-Anyway, he finds him and says...

-Your signature.
-Give us your treasure, he says.

And in return we'll let you into the court.

You'll lie under a palm tree,
sniff the court maidens.

Eat baklava with tangerines
for the rest of your life.

There. We'll make you
a royal courtier.

Anyway, the son talks to him for half a day,
talks and talks, finishes.

And the k*ller answers him...

There.

What happened next?

-Arina, invite them in.
-Come in. Olga Lvovna is expecting you.

-Hello.
-Hello. Have a seat.

The Plotnikovs?
-Yes, we're the Plotnikovs.

We have an appointment at 15:00.
-Yes, that's correct.

I am obliged to read you the will
of Evgenia Mikhailovna Plotnikova.

-No, wait, what will?

It's been six months since the death.
We've already entered into the inheritance rights.

Here, and you owe us the certificate.

-First I must read you the will.

-No, what will?

We're entitled to the apartment.
-Mom, wait.

-Before her death the deceased left a will.
So, I will read.

"I, Evgenia Mikhailovna Plotnikova,
being of sound mind and firm memory,

in the presence of witnesses
bequeath my apartment at the address:

city of Moscow, Brateevskaya Street,
building 9, block 4, apartment 77

into the full and unrestricted ownership
without encumbrances

to the non-commercial foundation 'Women's Will'."

-No, what foundation?

I don't understand! What foundation?

You have no right at all,
because there was no will!

-Control yourself, Svetlana Borisovna.

-No, what foundation, I don't understand?

And who is this?

-I'm Dima. Dmitry, that is.

Malyukov.

I represent the foundation "Women's Will".

-Wait a minute. This is ill*gal.
-You can challenge it in court,

but your application will be denied —
everything here is within the law.

With your permission, shall I continue reading?
-No, I just don't understand anything.

Gleb, who even is this?

-And what kind of foundation is this?

-A foundation helping women —
former inmates.

-Are you serious? Have you lost your minds?

This is our apartment!

And how? How are some inmates
supposed to live there now? Huh?

-Somehow like human beings.

-It's fine, mom.

I told you, you shouldn't have gone to her.

And you shouldn't have asked her for anything.
Only made it worse.

-She's a b*tch! She'll burn in hell!

-Hello again!

I just wanted to say goodbye.

Well, sorry it turned out this way.

Did you solve the riddle?

You won't solve it, anyway. Here.

How did it go?

So he promises the k*ller virgins, baklava,
all that, promises and promises.

And the k*ller says to him:

"A living donkey is better than a dead philosopher."

-Damn!

Can you imagine, a dead philosopher!

What even is that?

Muslims are complicated! Well, take care.

We lived on the eighth floor.

There's a beautiful view there.

-Uh-huh. Well, let's go.

-No. I'm not going.

-What do you mean? Why did we come here then
and go through all this?

Got it.

So, are we even now?

-Even.

-Oh, Zhenka, I was thinking,

maybe I'll go with you to Saudi Arabia.

I'm already learning Arabic.

-Aren't you afraid?

-I'm more afraid of dying of boredom here.

-I can't guarantee
it will end well for you.

-Danger, intrigue!

On a ten-point scale,
what are my chances of survival?

-Who is this?

-This, Vera, is your mother.

There's sin on her.

-I don't understand.

-She k*lled your father and betrayed you.

I've protected you from her all my life.

Now look how it is.
Go on, introduce yourselves.

Why are you staring like that?

I'm telling you, this is your mother. Say hello.

Oh, strange. I thought it would be easier.

Her blood is in you.

You have to atone for her sins, understand?

-Yes. I understand.