Previously, on "Hot Streets"...
Soo Park wants to assassinate me
and steal my black box.
Upgrading Chubbie Webbers' intelligence by 10,000 percent.
Branski, I order you to shoot her.
And now, the season finale of "Hot Streets."
Did you do this? No.
When that bullet passed through your brain,
it unlocked mental powers,
like the telepathy you're using with me right now.
I have psychic powers?
And this is only the beginning.
I know Jet Junior's secret, and I have to help my friends.
Onward, Deathbat. We have much work to do.
Hello. This is Professor Wags.
-Huh? -E equals mc-squared.
I am broadcasting to you from the past
whilst aboard the alien missile.
If my calculations are correct, a brown hole is incoming.
Make no mistake.
This is the beginning of the end.
[ Woofs ]
I have discovered a way to avert Armageddon.
The only way to save yourself is to...
[ Static ]
Chubbie, do you remember saying this back in the missile
when you became supersmart?
Don't you remember the rest of the message?
[ All sniffing ] They're saying on the news
that the whole world smells like shit.
Do you think this is what Professor Wags
tried to warn us about?
Welp, change is change.
Roll with the punches, fellas.
The only thing I know for sure is this is definitely
a Hot Streets.
Gentleman, this isn't a Hot Streets.
I have orders straight from the committee
that we are not to investigate.
The entire world stinks to high heaven.
We have to do something, boss.
It's not a priority.
Now, on a completely unrelated topic,
it's time you met my boss, Stinkeroni.
He's the Global Director of Hot Streets.
Wait a minute.
The whole world stinks,
and we're taking orders from a guy named Stinkeroni?
Ow! Fuck you, you fucking pig fuck.
Shut the fuck up.
What a meanie. Yeah.
I'm one bad dude, and things are going to change around here.
First up, you're no longer called "agents."
You'll now be known as Stink Soldiers.
Oh, and, Jet Junior, I order you to leave the planet
and never come the fuck back.
Leave Earth?
Can I visit my colleagues from time to time?
No way, fuck head. That's an order.
You and your colleagues can eat shit.
and get th cunt out of here.
Stinkeroni is in charge, and this is my Hot Streets.
[ Sighs ] I suppose I'll go to Mars.
I am engaged to a Martian chieftain's daughter, after all.
Time to cash that check.
If you go, you're the biggest traitor
the world has ever known.
So be it. Farewell.
You've all been perfectly acceptable...
colleagues.
I believed in him.
It's just us now, and the smell is getting stronger.
It's kind of growing on me. Is that weird?
Are you kidding?
[ Inhales deeply ] Ah.
Yes?
Fellow Stinkmen,
we're gonna make the world smell like shit,
and we're going to do it with Hot Streets' resources.
What about Professor Wags?
You mean Chubbie Webbers?
Sniff him out and whoop his fucking booty.
Even if the smell doesn't drive them mad,
the brown hole will eventually choke out these nitwits.
Then the invasion begins!
Well, you got to pay the bills,
even if it means betraying your friends
and seeing them all die in the worst way imaginable.
♪♪
Hot Streets, let's see your papers.
We're hauling some shit.
[ Sniffs ]
That doesn't smell like regular shit.
That smells like...
dog shit!
[ Gunshots firing ]
Aah!
Ah! No!
That was a close one.
I just hope our cargo is worth it.
That's exactly what our cargo is, Nostril --
hope.
Everybody in the world saw that message from Professor Wags.
Whatever is in Chubbie's head is our last shot.
All we need now is that mind-reading helmet
from Hot Streets.
[ Indistinct conversations ]
Do you, John Wayne Jetwing Junior, take my daughter
Miss Jet's hand in marriage, thus anointing you
Prince of Mars?
[ Zap! ]
Father? But you're dead.
Let me explain, son.
I'm your conscious manifesting itself
into the appearance of your father, Senior Jet.
I'm trying to get married right now.
What you're doing is turning your back on your friends
by marrying this very hot, sexy plane.
Don't say, "I do."
I do, do.
[ Indistinct, hushed conversations ]
You'll save us, Chubbie.
Mm, I love the sewers.
The stink is less stinky down here.
That's the problem.
I miss the stench!
I've got some jars of concentrated smell, here.
First sniff is free.
Look at yourself, pathetic.
We're directly under Hot Streets now.
If we head through this grate, we'll be able to sneak into HQ.
French, I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you about Jet Junior.
If I'd opened my mind, maybe Soo would still be here.
You can't blame yourself for murdering
Soo Park in cold blood.
Come on, time to save the world.
Hmm. Butler, come here.
My only purpose here is to follow
your every order, Mr. Junior.
Butler, can I call you my friend?
I'm sorry, Mr. Junior.
That is one order I cannot follow.
[ Zap! ] You again?
Son, now your friends are being stink-ed to death on Earth
while you remain here living in Martian paradise.
Oh, yeah? That part of my life is over, Father.
Isn't it?
[ Deep voice ] Hello, my husband.
What do you think?
I think you're an erotic masterpiece.
Attention, wiseasses, the time
of the Great Stink Inhabitance is upon us.
Turns out that dog they were hyped on was a fucking joke.
In a few hours, the brown hole
will finally open all the way up,
allowing the rest of our stink-people
to seize this dumb fucking planet as our own.
Great job, everybody.
We haven't much time.
Fellas, I think I found the tech room!
♪♪
That's it. Let's get this on Chubbie.
Change is change. Shame you didn't listen to me.
You're on Stinkeroni's side?
I sell my limited talents to the highest bidder.
In this case, the highest bid was less than my original pay.
Aah!
Wa, wa, wa.
There are a lot of things I want to change around here.
Change? Why would you want to change things?
You have everything you want, right here.
I'm thinking about making August 12th Mandatory Friendship Day.
But that's Martian Luther King Day.
Damn it!
Why are things the way they are?
They just are.
Why wouldn't they be?
Why are things the way they are?
They aren't.
This sham of a marriage is done!
Thanks, Father.
If this mind device doesn't work,
this is officially the end of the world,
stinking the world to its death.
Maybe, just maybe,
the world is evolving for the better.
We should keep an eye on her.
[ Rumbling ]
Pee-yew! The smell just doubled!
[ Inhales deeply ]
There's that good-good.
The brown hole is starting to gape!
We've got to hurry. Okay, Chubbs.
Time to see what answers are hidden
in that little peanut brain of yours.
Ugh! Ah!
You can't do this.
I need the stink! Jen, what have you done?
We'll never know how to close the brown hole now!
Oh! Oh! Bitch has stink-holm syndrome!
Kill her! Look what the stench is doing to us.
It's Jet Junior!
He's the one responsible for all of this.
My insane niece is right.
Hi. Friends, I'm back.
You!
John Wayne Jetwing Junior,
I hereby sentence you to death for abandoning Hot Streets
and for being an accomplice in the shit-smelling of Earth.
Kill him, Uncle Mark!
Somebody's got to die today, somebody!
Any last words? Yes.
I deserve this.
No. He doesn't. [ Crowd gasps ]
Soo? You're alive!
Somebody give me a spoon.
♪♪
Wow. I have powers now.
But I killed you.
When Branski shot me, I didn't die.
I'll let my close personal friend, Deathbat, explain it.
[ Squawking ]
I owe you for firing the shot that unlocked my powers,
and, Branski, I can read your mind.
I know it was on purpose.
Her mind-reading powers aren't that good.
I was shooting to kill.
So you're saying Jet Junior is innocent?
It all began when I broke into Jet Junior's office
and found his book on jet mythology.
I learned that jet years are different than human years.
Only later when I saw the rings on his black box at the volcano
did I figure it out.
Jet Junior may be 700 years in human years,
but that only makes him a mere 12 years old in jet years.
So Jet is not corrupt.
He's just a child.
I'll have to take your word for it.
As a young plane, I have no concept of math.
[ Rumbling ]
[ All coughing ]
Oh, God. It's too late. [ Coughs ]
We're dead meat without that mind-reading device.
Mind-reading device?
I am a mind-reading device.
Oh! Oh!
Listen closely.
The way to save yourself is to plunge a reflective prism
into the heart of the brown hole.
That's all there is.
Reflective prism? [ Coughs ]
What does that mean?
[ All coughing ]
[ Sniffs, sighs ]
Well, if it isn't the fuckheads
who made this whole invasion possible?
You see, that's why I fired Soo Park
and appointed you as Assistant Director.
I knew you would wreak havoc and distract everyone from my plan.
You were the perfect tool.
But you're killing humanity.
You're killing my friends!
You inept winged fuck, friends don't matter.
Hot Streets is about solving cases,
and this is the case of the New World Order!
Oh, what? You're mad now.
What are you going to do?
I'm going to take this tip to the lip.
I'm the head of Hot Streets, and I order you to stop.
♪♪
Aah!
♪♪
[ All gasping ]
Look!
Jet Junior sacrificed himself for us.
He was the prism Wags foretold, the crystal martyr.
Jet Junior is exactly like Jesus Christ.
Jet Junior: That's right.
I made the ultimate sacrifice
and turned myself into a crystal.
Can you turn yourself back?
Yes.
[ Cheers and applause ]
All right! Yeah!
[ Cheers and applause ]
Whew. Thank God that's over,
and everyone is back to normal.
Some of you guys were losing your minds out there.
Does anybody miss the smell?
So all in all, I will remain at Hot Streets,
and Soo Park will assume a role working from the outside
as a sexy rogue agent. He's right.
I can do more out here on my own,
training my mental powers with Deathbat.
Just stay out of my way
if you know what's good for you, tough stuff.
This underage jet is seriously turned on.
Jet Junior is just a boy, but he's acting like a man now.
This job has a way of changing a man.
I am a man now,
and as a man, I've learned that
Hot Streets isn't about solving cases.
It's about friends, friends like Louie Jabar Jr,
my half cousin and full friend.
We're here to stay, and there's so much to do.
Hot Streets begins!
♪♪