I'll see you at the lake.
(gasps)
(motors revving)
ANNOUNCER: FX presents Mayans.
- Last season on "Mayans M.C."...
- He ever talk to you about Mom or any of that?
- Mom! Mom!
[siren wails]
[echoing] - Drop it! Drop it!
- [coughing] - Hold it right there!
- Get down on your knees!
- You killed a cop, and it was a gift.
- What I signed up for was fitting you into la Galindo.
The day the DEA has enough to move on that cartel
is the day that I walk away.
[both grunt]
- You lied to me!
My own baby brother fucking betrayed me!
[car engine rumbles]
- My real name is Ignacio Cortina.
My partner and I, we did some very bad things.
With some very bad people.
- Pop.
- The U.S. Attorney's Office
coerced me into the same type of deal
they made my father sign nearly ten years ago.
- Here's the deal: we reinstate balance.
We'll also supply manpower and weapons
to crush Los Olvidados.
- What the U.S. and Mexican authorities don't know
is that someone else offered me a deal.
- Please sit.
- My organization is no longer at odds with Los Olvidados.
- Galindo will continue doing business with them,
keep it looking real.
- And Sam Crow can supply the cartel.
- Through us. Feds'll have no idea.
- Primo, need to talk to you.
Galindo and I discussed a lot of things
on the way back last night.
- Marcus... [speaking Spanish]
- Thank you.
- I come here with an opportunity.
You help with this, and you will be free and clear.
- We'll do whatever this thing for Potter is,
put it behind us.
- You tell Bishop you're done,
hand in your cut, and you leave.
- Fre-- - Oh, no!
[gunshot] Ugh!
[metal clatters]
- Execute command 9-2-9.
[computer chirping]
- That's it? - That's it.
- My brother talked to you. - Yeah.
Your brother asked me to sponsor him.
Said the family shit was fucking with both of you.
- We had a deal, and you're gonna fucking do it.
- No. This shit, this shit I've earned.
[gunshots] - Drop it! Drop it!
[paint can rattling]
[spray paint whooshing]
- [speaking Spanish]
Vámonos. - Vámonos!
[motorcycle engine rumbling]
[light rock music]
[laughter]
[siren blaring]
- [singing in Spanish]
*
[chickens clucking]
[thudding]
*
[all speaking Spanish]
- Lighten up, Boy Scout.
Ain't no fun if it can't kill you.
- [scoffs]
- [chuckles]
[sighs]
[knock on door]
- [speaks Spanish]
[door squeaks and groans]
- Vamos, vamos.
[doorbell buzzing]
[both shouting in Spanish]
[dramatic musical sting]
- Angel, no!
- EZ?
Let's go.
[indistinct chatter]
[murmuring indistinctly]
- How was the trip? - It was good.
- Good.
- [murmurs] - Hey.
*
- These are the last of them.
Contractor just walked me through it.
- [sighs] Jesus.
Why so many change orders?
- We didn't know how much of the plumbing was destroyed.
Fire ruined all of it. Had to be gutted.
All new copper. - [sighs]
- Like a phoenix.
- Creating a mythical bird probably be cheaper.
- I'll get these to the business office.
- Mm.
- Are you late?
- More than likely.
- Mexico?
- Not sure.
- Can you let me know, please?
- Yes.
You'll check on Mom? - Mm-hmm.
[both speaking Spanish]
- Who took the bad shots?
- Three white dudes, same block,
State Prison Tucson, only one affiliated.
- We pulled the product.
It was stepped on a lot: fentanyl, speed.
Whatever killed those junkies came from us.
- 80% of the heroin Galindo's pushing
from this rebel shadow place
feeding this new Arizona pipeline.
We lose it, it fucks up everything.
That can't happen.
- Ah.
- Give us the room.
[distant music plays]
Internal shit like this,
wish Alvarez was still in this seat.
- [chuckles]
- I'm sure he'd weigh in if we asked.
- It's not his problem anymore. - No, it's not.
It's ours now, so let's not fuck it up.
Tucson, Sahuarita, and Tempe, we make the drops,
see who turns blue.
- Agreed. - Agreed.
[gavel bangs]
- Reach out to the school.
Have the prospect do his thing.
- Yeah.
We hear from Angel? - Yeah.
They already set up the generators,
and now they're handing out supplies.
Saint's on her way.
- Good.
Another village that's got a shot.
- I think Angel's getting off on his own Mother Teresa thing.
- [chuckles softly]
- Put EZ on the next Adelita relief run.
- Angel will shut that down.
- Angel doesn't fucking decide.
The only way these Reyes brothers work out this beef
is in each other's face.
Make 'em run together.
- Yeah.
[cell phone buzzes]
- Alvarez.
- I'll call Coco.
[cell phone rings]
- Yeah.
- Let the prospect do his thing.
- He knows. - Good.
- Three kings make a decision yet?
- Yeah, they just finished up.
Coco.
- Tell him we heard from Alvarez.
Hobart's running with the intel on the LO.
Have him pick us up, sewer hatch.
- You want me with? - No.
Need you to help Ramos and Contry set up the AZ play.
- I just talked to Bishop.
He wants you and the prospect
to pick him up in the Bronco.
- Cool.
[phone beeps]
- You and Creep stay on the transport.
Let me know when it's in the air.
- Heading there now.
[gentle acoustic guitar music]
- [speaking Spanish]
[baby cries]
[rooster crows]
- Gracias. Sí.
- Gracias.
- Damn, haven't seen this kind of poor and wretched
since Afghanistan, bro.
- Well, brother,
you've never been to Fresno.
- Yeah.
[indistinct chatter]
- That the Saint? - Yeah.
- Hey, I know I'm the real Mexican,
but on this side, it doesn't mean I do all the work.
Come on.
- Yeah. [laughs]
[intriguing music]
*
- As soon as Potter's mercs kick down that door,
we follow fast, destroy any data,
find a place to plant this shit.
- They gotta think they just slaughtered
a rebel command post.
- Who will they be slaughtering?
- Human traffickers, scumbags.
[dramatic music]
*
- These the guys Potter hired?
- Hobart's ex-Green Beret.
Most of these guys were in his unit.
- Stone fuckin' killers.
- Every T.O.D. is a C.O.D.
[dramatic music]
*
- Those your guys?
- Partners, M.C. from Santo Padre.
A lot of them are ex-military.
Primo.
- Gentlemen.
All right, intel puts the rebel HQ
at the blue building, northeast corner, first floor.
Looks like nine, ten targets.
We'll breach the front.
The rest of you guys cover the exits.
- Riz, go with.
Watch your six, huh?
- Locals?
- La policía knows we're here.
They'll stay clear.
We got a guy working recon
checking the high rocks for scopes or spotters.
Time to shut down Los Olvidados.
Gear up. Let's go.
[tense music]
*
[rooster crows]
[dog whines]
*
- Move in!
[indistinct shouting]
[gunfire]
[both shout]
[gunshots]
[gunshots continue]
- [groans]
[dramatic music]
*
- [gasping and moaning]
[gunshot]
- [screams] [gunshots]
*
[gunshots]
[electricity zapping]
- We got two runners.
[gunfire]
[shouting]
[gunfire]
- Oh, shit.
[shouting]
[gunfire continues]
- Ugh!
[bullets pinging]
[ominous music]
*
[tense music]
[dog whining]
- [breathing heavily]
[dog barking]
[ominous music]
*
- Kitchen's clear.
*
- Bedroom's clear.
- Second bedroom's clear.
- All clear.
- Pull any tech, anything that might be intel.
Go. - Copy.
- You recognize any of 'em?
- Yeah.
Looks like Pablo.
Might be Adelita's second.
- There's more outside.
No one got away.
- Got these off the guys we dropped.
- Good work, gentlemen.
- Won't get much info out of these.
- Hobart, these'll help, hard drives.
Found them in the bread box.
- Found some LO propaganda, bedroom dresser.
- We'll let Potter know.
This might be the deathblow to your rebel problem.
- This is recon. Spot a little bird.
- Go.
- It's Mini.
It all went down.
[both speaking Spanish]
Hola?
Mini?
Hola?
Mini? [phone beeps]
[melancholy guitar music]
*
[dramatic music]
*
- * Mother of exiles
* The torch of hope
* In the toss of the tempest
* Threw us Madison's rope
* But the brazen giant
* With limbs astride
* Blocks the golden door
* To the U.S. of Lies
* Damn your huddled masses
* Scrub our floors
* Cut our grasses
* I am a wolf
* A wild cur
* Cut from the pack
* With blood on my fur
* Every howl
* Marks a debt
* 'Cause a beaten dog
*
* Never forgets
* Every howl
* Marks the debt
* 'Cause a beaten dog
* Never forgets
[pounds on door]
- Coming in! - Come in.
[door rattles]
- Found Delgado.
- Who's this? - Our little bird.
- She was watching from the rocks on a sat phone.
Gotta be a scout.
- She's just a kid.
- Kid with a KG-9 in her bag.
- Tie her up. See what she knows.
- Soldier. Remember, she's not a kid.
She's a killer.
*
[Spanish chatter on radio]
[door slams]
[upbeat Latin music plays quietly]
*
- Not many butcher shops with a classic literature section
in case I want a little Márquez with my--
my ribeye.
- I know who you are.
- Obviously, a meat-eater.
Of course you know who I am.
I wouldn't expect anything less
from a man with your experience.
- This about my son?
- Actually, it's about you, Ignacio...
And your days as an inspector in La División Entre Torres.
I have so many questions.
I--I--
I truly hope that Ezekiel gets his eidetic memory from you.
[bell on door jingles]
- Heard from our team.
- Hmm.
- I look forward to our reminiscing.
[bell on door jingles]
[indistinct chatter]
- What the hell was the kid doing here?
- LO rebels have been keeping tabs on the human traffickers
waiting for the right time.
- Kids are always the best scouts.
A place like this, they're fucking invisible.
- They're gonna fuck her up.
- Let's move.
- She could tell 'em everything.
[car engine rumbling]
- We gotta do something.
- It's not that simple, Primo.
These mercs report directly to the DOJ.
- It is simple.
They're gonna torture a little girl.
[mysterious guitar music]
- Sorry, brother, my guy lost his cell phone.
Mind if we take a look?
- I didn't see anything, but go ahead.
*
- You have any kids?
- No phone in here, man.
- Damn, how'd you miss this shit?
- Y'all need to get the fuck outta here.
- [muffled whimpering]
*
- [sighs] What?
[gunshot]
- [muffled yelling]
[meaty thud]
[gurgling]
- The fuck?
[both grunting]
- [groans] Fucker.
[muffled groaning]
[blows landing]
- [gurgling and screaming]
[muffled screaming]
[gasping]
[sputters]
- [breathing heavily]
- [muffled crying]
- [groans]
[gentle acoustic guitar music]
*
- * All the way down I was hoping *
- Yay! - [laughs]
[speaking Spanish]
- * All the way down I could see *
*
- How's our boy? - He's happy today.
Thank you.
Will Miguel be home for dinner tonight?
- I don't think so.
- He's been away so much lately.
The boy should have his father.
- Cristobal's fine, Dita.
- [babbles] - How you doing, my love?
- [laughs] - What are you playing with?
- [speaking Spanish]
- No other territories are showing rebel activity?
Nothing near the riots, the farm belt strikes?
- No, our satellites and drones
forced most of the cells out of the open desert.
And after today,
we've wiped out three encampments,
a dozen weapon caches, six communication hubs,
pretty much shut down the entire propaganda machine.
- And what of our mother-to-be?
- Other than that security camera footage
a few months ago, Adelita is still off the grid.
Guess getting knocked up has shifted her priorities.
- Perhaps.
Keep Hobart on the dime for another month or so.
Let's be certain Los Olvidados are indeed olvidados.
- What's wrong?
- Are those real fingernails?
- Yeah, it's a French tip.
It keeps me from biting them.
- Oh, functional beauty.
Alas, my alpha-keratin is a bit diminished as well.
Bad habit, nail-biting.
- Yep.
- At least my nocturnal enuresis
is no longer a problem.
I was a bed wetter.
- Glad that cleared up.
- Small victories.
- Killing these mercs.
- How fucked are we?
- Very fucked.
- Fuck.
- You okay, mi'jo?
- Yeah.
- I owe you one, Ezekiel.
- Just do what I had to do, el padrino.
- I thought maybe you did it
'cause you didn't want to see me dead.
- That too.
- Good.
That makes me happy.
- [chuckles]
- Four dozen.
- 4 times 12 is 48.
- Yeah, thanks, Rain Man.
[all chuckle]
- You're most welcome.
- We miss you, Chucky.
- Can I ask a question, Hap?
- You got to talk to Chibs.
- Not about the bet.
I thought Jax wanted you guys out of the gun business.
- Transition's taking longer than we thought.
It's a lot at stake.
[car engine rumbling]
[foreboding music]
- EZ around? - No.
- Angel? - No one's here.
I'm not sure when they're back, sorry.
- All right, tell EZ I need to talk to him
and stay off his cell phone.
- Yeah, okay.
*
[car door slams]
[car engine turns over]
- Who's the old man?
- Felipe?
Oh, EZ and Angel's pop.
- His sons are Mayans? - Yeah.
Why?
- Got a long drive ahead of us.
Let's go.
- Something wrong, Hap?
- Shut up. - All right.
[upbeat music playing]
*
- How did it all go?
Okay.
- Table.
[indistinct chatter]
[cell phone buzzing]
- Hey.
[gentle music playing]
*
- The numbers don't add up differently
the more you look at them.
- Just pulling some of the infrastructure costs.
Martin is bringing over
his public utility guy this afternoon.
It's just so many variables with the wildfires.
- You know... [clears throat]
You're allowed to enjoy this.
- I'll enjoy it tomorrow after it's submitted and approved.
- Mm.
This was all you.
- That's ridiculous. - [chuckles]
You know, I married you for your brains, right?
It's so sexy.
- Just make sure sexy is home by 4:00.
You have to take her to Dr. Cayman.
I've got Martin. You promised.
- I know.
I will.
- She's getting worse.
- We don't know that.
- You're not with her as much as I am.
I love her, Miguel,
but she makes me so fucking anxious.
- We'll figure it out, querida.
- Mm-hmm.
- Mr. Alvarez is here.
- [clears throat]
- My cousin's a trooper in Alameda.
Pulled anything the state had on him.
- Thank you, Franky.
- You wanna give me a clue yet?
- Just curiosity.
- A Google search is curious.
Having me run background checks,
pull local and state records?
That's something else.
- I know it's a lot,
but I wouldn't ask if this wasn't--
- I know, a family thing.
Don't make me part of something I'm gonna regret, EZ.
- I promise.
If it lands on you, nothing happens here.
- Stay safe, dirtbag.
- You too, pig.
[distant train horn sounds]
[mysterious acoustic guitar music]
*
[knock on door]
- Sorry.
- Bad time? - No.
What's going on?
- Potter came by the shop last night.
- Why?
- Didn't say,
just made a comment on needing information.
Shit from my past.
Probably just fucking with me.
- Nothing Potter does is random.
It means something.
- As long as he doesn't hurt you.
You've never asked anything about what was in the lockbox.
Ignacio Cortina.
I know you saw it.
- It was on you to bring up.
- Yeah, I will,
when it makes sense to hear it.
Angel?
- He doesn't know anything.
- Mm.
- They reached out at all?
- Not a word.
Almost eight months.
Things any better around here?
- He deals with me what he has to.
Club stuff.
- Club stuff give you that?
- [quietly] Yeah.
- You wanna talk about it?
- When it makes sense to hear.
- You think this merc fuck-up can blow back on us?
- Padre still thinks he has Galindo by the balls.
Doesn't know about our deal with the LO.
Makes no sense for the cartel to off the mercs.
- So best-case scenario,
this all comes crashing down on Adelita?
- It's a possibility.
- How the fuck they find the kid?
Why wasn't someone watching the recon?
What the fuck was the prospect...
- EZ was where I told him to be.
- He saved el padrino from taking a bullet, carnan.
- Course he did.
[speaking Spanish]
- We're all set with the AZ chapters:
Tempe, Tucson, Sahuarita.
They'll be down this afternoon.
- Pulling the prison drops? - Yeah.
- Yuma's handling it.
- And the problem,
if it ends up being an internal one?
- It falls on the charter.
They decide how it goes away.
[gavel bangs]
[chairs scraping]
- Biggs,
Jonas,
and Delgado.
Dead.
Three of my best men.
- And the kid was gone?
- Yeah.
- That's a very dangerous 12-year-old kid.
- You think this shit is funny?
- No, I think the child is the reason they're dead.
Mm.
- The rebels?
- Well,
I can't imagine it was locals.
- These were seasoned warriors, Mr. Potter.
Whoever did this was trained and had a plan.
- You think the kid was a trap?
- Split up our unit.
It's what I would have done.
- Why now?
Rebels have been pushed back for months.
Hard drives you brought confirm it.
No movement in other cells.
No active recruitment.
They're dead.
- And perhaps waiting to be reborn.
How far along would you say she is here?
- I don't know, five months, maybe more.
- Perhaps her water has broken
and el bebé is now safely swaddled in a Mexican manger.
- And Mama's making up for lost time?
- Or a nasty case of postpartum.
- I want that bitch,
and I don't give a shit if it's on your dime or mine.
- Let's facilitate the major's hate, agent.
It is the American way.
[tense music]
- [speaking Spanish]
[speaking Spanish]
[rooster crows]
[grunts]
[sighs]
- No.
[cat purring]
*
[speaking Spanish]
[hard rock music playing]
*
- What's up?
- Brother.
- Good to see you, brother.
[overlapping chatter]
- Hey, ese, you're the one with the memory shit, right?
- I guess so.
[hard rock music continues]
*
Just talked to Pop.
Potter was in the shop last night.
- Maybe he wanted a good steak.
- Show up like that, can't be anything good.
- Then it's the old man's problem.
- That we fucking created. - No.
That you fucking created.
- Hey, come on, Angel.
[door slams]
- No.
*
[door slams] - Need anything else?
- Think we're good, Chucky.
- We know anything else about this beef?
Starting to feel like their fucking mother.
- Man, Angel says it's old shit, family wounds.
- Family or not, been going on way too fucking long.
It's bleeding all over the table.
[chuckles]
- We're back.
[hard rock music swells]
[overlapping chatter]
- Under the building inspection,
but, actually, I've added it as an extra fee already.
- Okay.
- Excuse me.
We should leave soon.
- No, I'm not taking you today, Dita.
- Why not?
- Sorry. I'll be right back.
Miguel, he's taking you to Dr. Cayman,
and he should be here any minute,
so why don't you just sit down?
- Why is Miguel taking me?
I'm sure he has more important things to do.
- So do I.
- Oh, yes, of course.
You go back to your meeting.
And I'll be in the car with Nestor.
Hope we don't miss the appointment.
I think I might be getting worse.
[somber guitar music]
[door clicks]
*
[keypad clicking]
[line trilling]
[cell phone buzzing]
- Your call is being forwarded...
[rooster crows]
[rock music playing]
[guns thump]
- Want to tell us why the shot callers are here?
- Yeah, we thought this was about
picking up guns and making a progress report.
- It'll all make sense.
- Weapons, gentlemen.
*
- We've hit an ugly bump in our Arizona prison pipeline.
[bricks thud]
That's why you're all here.
- And it's the reason we're here.
- Tempe, Sahuarita, and Tucson, the heroin that you sent
to your respective prison drops this morning,
my charter pulled before they got there.
- The fuck for?
- One of your last shipments was cut so deep,
three inmates OD'd.
I don't have to tell you what that does to our business.
It can't happen again.
- You putting this shit on one of us?
- No, carnan, we just need
to take that possibility off the table.
- Get the prospect.
- Yeah.
[indistinct whispering]
[dramatic musical sting]
- Charter ID's in a different place.
- Huh.
Tucson. - This is bullshit.
- If this stays clear, it's pure.
It turns blue, it's been cut.
- [whispers] Shit.
- What the fuck?
- You do the pickup from the airdrop?
- You think it was me?
- You're the only one who was alone with the package.
- This is crazy.
- Is it?
- Answer him.
- There's stupid,
and there's really fuckin' stupid.
[speaking Spanish]
- Sorry, brothers.
We had no idea.
[tense music]
*
- We know that.
- You'll handle the problem.
- Yeah.
- Do it before you leave.
*
- I'm gonna head out, if it's cool.
- Sit down.
[gentle guitar music]
- [sighs]
- This shit with you and Angel,
haven't pressed it.
Knew it was blood.
Figured it would correct itself.
- It hasn't.
- Your patch vote is coming up.
Judging by the vibe I get,
we don't have a unanimous table.
- Angel said he'd vote no.
- He don't say shit.
Neither do you.
That's the problem.
- It's gone on too long.
I don't care how you do it. Work it the fuck out now.
*
- Yeah.
Okay.
*
* Señor
* Can you tell me where we're headin'*
* Lincoln County Road or Armageddon *
* Seems like I been down this way before *
*
* Is there any truth in that, señor *
*
* Señor
*
* Señor
* Do you know where she's hidin' *
- [muffled whimpering]
* How long we gonna be riding *
* How long must I keep my eyes glued to the door *
- [muffled pleading]
* Will there be any comfort there, señor *
- [muffled screaming]
[grunts]
* There's a wicked wind still blowing on that upper deck *
- [moans]
* There's an iron cross still hanging down *
* From around her neck
* There's a marching band still playing *
* In that vacant lot
*
* Where's she held me in her arms one time and said *
* "Forget me not"
*
- Listen, I am so sorry about today.
- Where were you?
- There were some complications,
the rebels.
I was on the other side.
- You were with Adelita.
- Yes. - This whole time?
- Alvarez and me.
*
- You should get some sleep.
You look exhausted.
- Yeah, I am.
- Okay.
*
- Has she told you who the father is yet?
Adelita.
- No.
I don't think she's told anyone.
*
* Señor
*
* Señor
*
* I can see that painted wagon *
* Smell the tail of the dragon *
* I can't stand the suspense here anymore *
*
* Can you tell me who to contact here, señor *
*
* Well, the last thing I remember *
* Before I stripped and kneeled *
*
* Was that trainload of fools *
* Bogged down in a magnetic field *
- Mom! - All right, come on.
[indistinct chatter]
- Mom! Angel!
- Boys.
No dessert if you're fighting, okay?
* It's the real thing
*
* Señor
*
* Señor
* You know their hearts is as hard as leather *
* Give me a minute, let me get it together *
* Just gotta pick myself up off the floor *
*
* I'm ready when you are, señor *
*
* Señor
*
* Señor
*
[distant dog barks]
[siren wailing]
[knock on door]
[lock clicks]
- What are you doing here? - We have to talk, Angel.
- There's nothing to talk about.
- Yeah, there is.
- What, your, um, sponsor sent you here?
Worried his golden boy didn't get the votes he needs?
- I don't give a fuck about the vote.
- Well, if this is about Pop, man, then stay out of it.
It's none of your fucking business.
- It's not about Pop.
It's about Mom. - What?
[gentle Latin music playing]
*
I know who killed her.
[dramatic music]
*
[baby giggles]
[typewriter clicking, bell dings]
I need to be part of the club.
The line?
You cross it, ain't no walkin' it back.
ANNOUNCER: Mayans. All new Tuesdays at 10:00 on FX.
This is business. Let's make some money.
I will bring you all down, one... by... one.
FRANKLIN: Playin' a different game now.
You can't make people like you,
but if people don't respect you,
you can make 'em fear you.
(chattering)
(breathing heavily)
(screaming)
-(recorder playing theme song) -(babbling)
Pink eye!
(grunting)
(babbling)
Pink eye!
FRANK: Don't judge me! This is art!
(recorder hits sour note)