Hello, Raymond. You're looking old and sickly.
So nice of you to greet us, Madeline.
I thought you'd still be crushed under that house in Munchkinland.
-Sticks and stones, Raymond. -Describing your breakfast?
Spot checks are done.
Needless to say, I'm thoroughly underwhelmed.
Huh. From your expression, I would have guessed constipated.
Captain Wuntch, good to see you.
But if you're here, who's guarding Hades?
Madeline.
I wondered why all the birds had suddenly stopped singing.
What brings you here?
I heard you're under investigation by Internal Affairs.
Didn't want to miss that.
So much time with your ear to the pavement,
it's a pity a truck hasn't run over your head.
I shot you because you were in the wrong position.
You weren't following orders.
What about the time you destroyed my personnel file while I was undercover.
-What if there'd been a mole? -You were trying to make me disappear.
You embarrassed me in front of Derek Jeter.
You embarrassed yourself in front of Derek Jeter.
I'm a front runner for a job in the Boston PD.
Boston. But it's so close to Salem.
You do know what they do to witches there, don't you?
This is amazing.
Hmm. An embarrassing blight growing right under your nose.
I don't like that moustache you had when we first met.
That moustache was era-appropriate.
She's the devil.
And you don't dance with the devil because you get burned.
Also, because in Madeline's case, she has no rhythm
and her hands are like little rat claws.
How do you like my new office? 20th floor.
Yes. I never thought I'd see you this high without a broom under you.
-May I? -Those are my tissues, Raymond.
If you're planning on sneezing, should have brought your own.
You're like the League of Nations in '36,
just hoping the Abyssinian Crisis resolves itself.
That's the lesson you draw from the fall of Addis Ababa?
Raymond, you sound so naive.
And you sound just like Victor Emanuel the Third.
That's funny, after 20 years,
I think you'd be used to me slam-dunking in your face.
I'm surprised you didn't see what was going on in there.
I got you riled up, you oversold giggle pig,
and now you're running an expensive task force at a time of budget cuts.
Better make some big arrests and quick,
or you'll be the poster boy for departmental waste.
Slam-dunk returned.
Madeline's not some invincible succubus.
She's a regular succubus, so she can be defeated.
We just need to find the letter.
You plead for your job back, I refuse, you start weeping like a war widow.
Does that sound about right?
Don't count your gross fish babies before they've hatched, Madeline.
How did you get this?
Gina and Terry got it, you grackle.
It doesn't matter how I got it.
Sorry, sir. Didn't realise that was how you wanted to play it.
So, you've got an audience for this little stunt.
Yes, well, who wouldn't want to see a man fight a crocodile?
Don't turn this into something bigger than it is,
not with Madeline Wuntch watching us at all times.
-Ew! When did they put that in? -Right after Wuntch got promoted.
She had it installed at that height so she'd, I quote,
"always be looking down at me", unquote. Treat this like a regular case.
I should be the bigger person, right?
Shouldn't be hard given that Madeline is not technically a person.
Go ahead and gloat, you toad.
Thank you for this honour, Deputy Chief.
Oh.
OK.
You're welcome.
Wuntch time is over!
Boom! Did it! Had it both ways!
No regrets.
Before I came to the Nine-Nine,
I was rotting away behind a desk in the public relations department.
All I wanted was the chance to do good police work again.
I just got it.
And I blew it.
Thinking about that devil toad.
Oh! There it is.
The shrivelled husk of Raymond Holt.
I will never trust Madeline Wuntch.
She's a venomous snake waiting to strike, and you know what we do to snakes.
Chop their heads off, remove the skin, turn them into boots.
Don't be absurd. Who would want troll skin boots?
-You just said a snake. -The devil comes in many forms.
No, what I meant was,
I want you to follow her and make sure she doesn't betray us.
How do we get close without attracting attention?
We could dance. You must know some moves.
You were mentioned by name in the Monster Mash.
Fine, but on two conditions.
We stay at least four inches apart at all times,
and you tuck your tail into your pants so I don't trip on it.
You move well.
Must be all the extra legs, you crab.
Don't you find this exhausting?
Thinking of fresh insults?
Not at all, you coffin cave mould beetle.
I meant our relationship. Aren't you tired of the rivalry?
We fight and we fight and nothing changes, but we're really not so different.
I suppose we were close once. Remember Brighton Beach?
1,200 kilos of heroin in your abandoned subway tunnel. How could I forget?
The largest drug bust in NYPD history,
pulled off by the most unlikely duo.
A woman and a gay black detective.
No, I meant a human and a rotted jack-o'-lantern.
Don't be so hard on yourself.
You weren't all the way rotted back then.