All language subtitles for The Nevers - 01x01 - Pilot.AMZN.WEB.NTb.English.HI.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

(somber violin music playing) _

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(birds chirping)

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(distant rumbling in sky)

(loud rumbling continues)

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(rumbling continues)

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♪

(breathing shakily)

(exhales)

_

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♪

(steam hissing)

(bellows fluttering)

♪

♪

Good morning, Mrs. True.

- (gears clicking)
- (clock chiming)

(sniffs)

(water running)

♪

♪

(gears clattering)

(electricity powering down)

♪

Mrs. True.

Miss Adair.

- You look very fine.
- I think so, too.

(hooves clopping)

_

- (indistinct chatter)
- (motor rumbling)

What are you walking around here for?
That's what I'm saying.

- Oh, I just...
- No, wait!

Will you do something
about this man, please?

NEWSBOY: Read it in "The Star"!

Maladie kills fifth victim!

Murder spree soon to eclipse The Ripper!

(indistinct chatter)

(church bells tolling)

I don't suppose you know
how this all works out.

The ripplings don't come
when they're called.

Well, let's just try to keep it civil.

Not like with the innkeeper.

- He had a shotgun.
- I've heard that excuse before.

When they have shotguns.

- What's the, uh, girl?
- Myrtle Haplisch.

Something to do with her voice.

(door opens)

Good day, Mr. Haplisch.

MR. HAPLISCH: Yes.

- Are you, uh...
- I'm Amalia True.

This is my colleague, Penance Adair.

The reverend told you we were coming?

Oh, yeah. About Myrtle.

Um, come... in.

Missus!

Please, come through to the, um, parlor.

They're saying Myrtle might be...

Touched?

We, we heard about those girls
the last few years.

They're... not right.

Neither right nor wrong, being Touched
is not a defect of character.

But isn't that killer...

Mal-Maladie. Isn't she one of them?

Maladie's homicidal.
I don't know if she's Touched.

- We don't know if Myrtle is.
- Oh, she's Touched, all right.

Touched by Red Boot Teddy!

We're, um, of a mind,

there's a Satanic element.

She's Lucifer's vessel, is what.

He speaks through her.

Up!

Yes, uh, the reverend mentioned
an affliction of the tongue.

'Cause old Satan is squattin' on it.

Spewing out his foulness,

making a chamber pot
of our Myrtle's mouth.

(tea kettle whistles)

MR. HAPLISCH:
Well, that's a bit descriptive.

Oh, uh, new kettle. (chuckles)

- It tells you when it's, um...
- Sophie!

- (distant voice yells)
- (thuds)

(panting)

(distant grunt)

Is Myrtle here at home, then?

♪

(door squeaks open)

(chains rattling)

- Why is she chained?
- Infection.

W-w-we got the others.

MRS. HAPLISCH: Out. Get out.
Get out, I say.

Myrtle was the only one could earn
a wage with the new labor laws.

Now this.

Myrtle, I'm Penance
and that's Mrs. True.

May I sit?

Uh, we've come to help with
what's been troublin' ya.

There's plenty of girls
who've been shown

a strangeness of some kind. A "turn."

But Mrs. True and I, we've worked
with them, and they come up fine.

Would you like that?

Speak, Myrtle.

You mean, "Speak, Satan"?

(speaks foreign languages)

- See?
- (speaks foreign languages)

Myrtle, you can understand me, yes?

(speaks Chinese)

Chinese?!

Most of it. Some of it
may have been Russian.

- And I want to say... Turkish?
- Huh.

AMALIA: I'd guess every known
language is crowding her mind.

How would a girl like Myrtle
learn Chinese?

She's never even seen a Chinaman.

Well, at least we can rule out

- any sort of Satanic influence.
- (Mrs. Haplisch gasps)

- Those acrobats.
- MR. HAPLISCH: What?

No! They just tumbled about.

They come to Barney Park
doing flips and balancing.

They had an unnatural air.

I said it then. And there was a monkey!

- He looked right at me.
- Yes. Well...

- Allow me to be frank...
- After being grateful

for the chance to give

- Myrtle the kind of care...
- (clattering upstairs)

AMALIA: Keep them down here.

(Myrtle grunting)

- (whimpering)
- (thief grunts)

- (Amalia yells)
- (thuds)

AMALIA: (sighs) Right.

(distant yelling)

Gentlemen.

(neck cracking)

Might we be civil?

(yelling)

- (thuds)
- (yells)

(punching, grunting)

(thief yells)

(thwacks)

- You bitch!
- (glass shattering)

- (thwacks)
- (grunts)

- Penance!
- (thwacks)

- Shiner!
- (thief grunting)

(exploding)

(punching, grunting)

- THIEF: Aah!
- (thwacks)

AMALIA: Get the carriage!

- (thief yells, grunts)
- (clicking)

Da! The lady did a wrestle!

- (glass shattering)
- (groaning)

(thuds)

(grunts)

(Myrtle whimpering)

(clangs open)

(clattering)

(Myrtle grunting, whimpering)

(Amalia yells)

(thuds)

(Shock Trooper growling)

- (grunting)
- (thwacks)

(horse whinnies)

AMALIA: Come on. Let's go!

(horse whinnies)

- (shrieks)
- (thuds)

- (thwacks)
- (thuds)

- (growling)
- (Amalia yells)

(yells)

(grunts) Myrtle, run!

- (horse whinnies)
- True!

(thwacks)

(electricity buzzing)

(thwacks)

(horses whinnying)

♪

(crowd exclaiming)

(firing)

Did you see that face?

I think I preferred when
people just had shotguns.

- (gunshot, yells)
- Oh, no. No, I didn't.

(bystander screams)

(gunshots)

(crowd yelling)

We can't outrun them. We're
going to have to change it out.

Uh, you mean... It's only a prototype.

- (hooves clopping)
- (crowd yelling)

(yelling, screaming)

(clattering)

This is weird for us, too.

(Myrtle shrieks)

(screams)

Heads down!

(metal clanging)

PENANCE: Out of the way!

(dramatic music playing)

One side!

(rumbling)

♪

I, I think it's best if you
come stay with us for a bit.

If that suits ya.

(operatic voices)

We can, we can deal with those fellas.

We can find out what they want,
or what they...

are.

How are we gonna deal with those fellas?

True?

We're going to the opera.

See? We already got a plan.

(upbeat violin music playing)

♪

- Subs by kinglouisxx -
for www.addic7ed.com

♪

GENERAL PECKING: It's just a woman.

Five men murdered.
I'd say she's more than that.

PRINCE: Yes, murder.

Very distressing.

This "Maladie" is a lunatic.

Scotland Yard has their
Special Detail to catch her.

What matter if she's Touched?
This is beneath us.

LORD BROUGHTON: She is not
killing whores, your grace.

These are respectable men.

Psychoanalysts.

Well, the Prime Minister intends to take

a public position on the Touched.

We need to decide what it is.

A few women pulling parlor tricks...

It's not just women.

And it's not a few.

There are hundreds, at least,

of unique, inexplicable afflictions.

Lavinia Bidlow has made a cause of them.

LORD ALLAVEN-TYNE: Which is
why the PM needs to take a...

Women are being attacked,

accused of witchcraft, or
some island voodoo, and...

PRINCE: Fairy stories.

These are biological anomalies,

- caused by electricity.
- (Massen clears throat)

Uh, Lord Massen?

A girl started in
my engine works last month

wiping down the plating press.

She slipped. Got her arm
caught in the press.

And then she pulled it back out.

Three tons of pressure,

and she snapped the hydraulic
without so much as a bruise.

- People cheered.
- GENERAL PECKING: Well, I say enlist her.

Point her at the bloody Boers.

A machine breaks. Again, gentlemen,

this isn't a troop deployment,

- or a, a market crash.
- (thuds)

(exhales)

The Prime Minister will not be
taking a position on the Touched.

Nor will he allow any official
debate on the subject.

Not until we understand the
nature and breadth of the attack.

- Attack?
- You're declaring the Touched

a direct threat against the empire.

- (thuds)
- Which we here are sworn to protect.

ALL: Contra hostes omnes.

And this attack is expected to come...

It came three years ago.

Third of August, 1896.

A Monday. Rather gray.

Not one case of someone
being Touched before then.

Not one outside London.

Those reported overseas
were all here at the time.

And not one man of stature afflicted.

That's the genius of it.

They came at us through our women.

LORD ALLAVEN-TYNE: "They"?

I'm still not sure I can
equate a few bizarre anecdotes

with the Mongol horde.

Only a blind man measures
the length of a blade

by how much is in his belly.

- Your overstep the mark, Massen.
- This was designed

so that we would see the parts...

and not the whole.

Philanthropists like Lavinia Bidlow

see the suffering of the afflicted.

The common throng see
a macabre murderess.

And you see a broken machine. (laughs)

That is exactly what I see.

The greatest machine.

The heart of our empire
brought to a shuddering halt

by the caprice and ambitions of those

for whom ambition was never meant.

- (thuds)
- INDUSTRIALIST: This is the Age of Power.

- New power.
- The X-ray.

- The wireless.
- Electricity.

We are the first generation
accustomed to the impossible.

What women are appalled by today,

they will accept tomorrow,

and demand the day after that.

And the immigrant. And the deviant.

- (thuds)
- That is the power being wielded,

and not by us.

The blade is in, gentlemen.

We need to know whose hand
is on the hilt.

(indistinct chatter)

Nobody gets through.

- (metal clanging)
- (shovels digging)

FOREMAN: Put your back into it, Jones,

- you lazy...
- JONES: Yes, sir.

FOREMAN: We get any further
behind, I'll pluck the lot of ya!

Not in front of the officer.
Show some respect.

Detective Mundi.

You're the Special Detail, yeah?

- You're gonna wanna see this.
- Am I?

Mind your head.

(rats squeaking)

Was a digger stumbled on her.

Near had a kiss, they did.

Here. You see the stab wounds?

These mates brung the torches in.

They spotted this on the wall.

That's how they knew it was one of hers.

It's a message.

Not from Maladie.

But how can you be sure?

She can spell.

Did he recognize the victim? The digger?

No.

Well, not much to recognize,
the rats having had a go.

You get vagrants and drunks taking
shelter down here all the time.

Mmm. This woman was neither.

Where does this lead?

FOREMAN: It was meant to
be the maintenance tunnel

for the southern line,
but it got scrapped.

There's too much to do,
expanding the underground.

The city'll fall in on itself.

I don't envy you this job.

- Yeah.
- Who moved the body?

Must have been... Wait. What?

- No, it was there.
- She wasn't killed there.

And her blood's been dry
a lot longer than this pig's.

No. It's not... Oi.

You're tossing about
a lot of assumptions.

Clearly I meant to.

Right. Shut this lot down. Line 'em up.

- No...
- We check every man in here

for blood on his hands or his clothes.

You, you can't stop the dig.
We got a schedule to keep.

And what's a murder to that, eh?

What? You think you're the first to
try and pin something on Maladie?

People think every Touched
they meet might be her.

And some of them Touched,
they're weird enough. They are.

Make your skin crawl. But here's you,

letting a killer get off by making
it harder to catch another one.

- For a schedule.
- I know about you, Frank Mundi.

East End Ape. Always fists first.

He could beat a confession
out of a headstone.

You can play the righteous man,

but even you answer to someone.

Yes, I do. She's right there.

Now, that woman faced an horrible end.

And I don't think you killed her,

but I'm not letting you bury her.

What about the Special Detail?

If it's not Maladie done this,
then it's not your case.

- Oh, no. Maladie done this, didn't she?
- (grunts)

Because she left a message.

So you're gonna tell me what was
here before you dressed it up,

'cause one more lie,
and I'm not on a case,

I'm the fucking "Angle" of Death.

(indistinct chatter)

♪

(indistinct chatter)

Leave the doors!

Mrs. True's back with a new one.

They's in Penance's...
uh, the prolatype.

What, the auto-carriage? (laughs)

It's mad. Primrose, you got to see.

Mother says motorcars are common.

Common? There's only eight
of them that ever were.

I wouldn't expect you to understand,

but Mother says they're a blight.

Yeah? She say that lately?

On a visit, maybe, that we all missed.

As though you know anything
about being a mother.

HARRIET: Primrose!

She didn't mean that.

Does she think she's too big
for a spanking?

PENANCE: Coming through!

(indistinct chatter)

(speaks foreign languages)

HORATIO: All right. All right, come on.

Don't suffocate them.
It's only a carriage.

No?

That's fuckin' amazing.

Myrtle, this is Dr. Horatio Cousens.
He swears a lot.

- (speaks foreign languages)
- No, I don't.

- How was your journey?
- Eventful.

Lucy, I need to send a letter
to Mrs. Bidlow.

Let her know about the attack.

LUCY: Attack? What attack?

Lucy. Pen. Paper.

I'll set up in your rooms.

- Shop talk first.
- Not first.

This is just a scratch.

(laughs)

- Primrose?
- I can't ride it in,

- so I don't see what...
- No, it's just...

I recalled you saying you didn't
have anyone your own age to talk to.

Oh!

I'm Miss Chattoway.

But you may call me Primrose.

I hope we'll be friends.

So what's your "turn"? I'm large.

(speaks foreign languages)

Myrtle has a language situation,

and I imagine
she could use a cup of tea.

Oh. Um, do you want...

She does speak English.

But not with her mouth.

(speaks foreign languages)

All right. Come with me.

(rooster crows)

We should be married in this.

LUCY: How is this new?

People been attacking us
since they known we was Touched.

- Or since always.
- AMALIA: This is different.

This whole day.

We knew people would come down
on us the more we were thriving.

Why would they want this...

Myrtle?

AMALIA: I don't think she's the first.

I think they've been
doing this for some time.

All those girls we went after
who'd "just run away"?

(sighs) Lord.

We need to bolster our security.

All entrances, windows
bolted or blocked.

I could rig up a few surprises, as well.

Nothing lethal, but very discouraging.

Everyone signs in and out.
Time and destination.

No one goes out alone or after dark.

- Not even visitors.
- One time.

I've been showing the girls
a bit of scrapping.

- You'll show them all.
- But not using their "turns."

Well, there's plenty you can do
with what's at hand.

It's about confidence.
As my mum used to say,

if you can look a man in the eye,

you can stab him in it.

Smart woman.

But also, don't do that.

The Beggar King.
Tell him I need to see him.

We pay him for protection,

and he's been feeding us
potential candidates.

I need to know if he's
been feeding anyone else.

Here, first thing tomorrow.
Put word on the street.

That's not how it works, Mrs. True.

Amalia, you don't just ask
the Beggar King to come calling.

I am, in fact, not asking.

All right.

Better tend to that scratch,

since you're in such a hurry
to make new enemies.

- (church bell chimes)
- (indistinct chatter)

(knocking on door)

(knocking continues)

(grunts softly)

(grunts, exhales)

(clattering)

(grunts)

(clanging)

(liquid bubbling)

(groaning)

(panting)

(snorts)

VALET: Augustus Bidlow to see you, sir.

(groans, exhales)

(groans, yawns)

Augie, sorry I kept you waiting.

Did I keep you waiting?
I'm at odds with time.

They're unhappy.

Who? The Humphries? Of course
they're unhappy. They're old.

The crows.

They shouldn't be massing here.

HUGO: Crows...

Do you mean to say
we're witnessing a murder?

(groans)

You know I hate that term.

So unfair, "a murder of crows."

Crows are actually lovely.
They're intelligent creatures.

Why is it an "exaltation of larks"?

- Larks are not at all as soc...
- HUGO: Not at all as social.

Yes, Augie, your radical stance
on avian nomenclature

- hasn't changed since Eton.
- No, thank you.

I think they're here as a Greek
chorus to your distemper.

- (sighs)
- So...

what has you so ruffled?

I assume your sister
is angry about something.

No.

I just... I, I've done something stupid.

And that's not why she's...

(sighs) Fu...

(sips, gulps)

She... This.

(clears throat) You know
Lavinia's charity endeavor?

The Touched.

Yes. The, uh...

- The Orphanage.
- Orphans. Right.

- No. The Touched.
- Yes. They're terrible.

(sighs) They're wonderful.

They're absurd.

Do you even know what the term means?

"Touched"? Yes! (laughs) No.

Uh, they're all, uh, they have,

uh, weird, um,
deformities and afflictions.

And... Oh! Um. Alderton Musgrove
has a niece who can float.

- Really?
- (laughs) Yeah.

Just an inch or so off the ground.

She can't go anywhere
unless you tow her about.

Musgrove is apoplectic.

I'm not supposed to tell. (laughs)

Oh, and, uh, Lavinia's opened a,
a home for them.

And it's all rather controversial,

- and...
- And...

she, she, she just now got word

from the widow who runs the affair.

Some Touched girl was attacked.

I mean, the girl's fine,
but Lavinia, she's aflame.

"It's time society accepted

that the Touched are
amongst us, and they're..."

And I said, "Well,
they're not amongst us.

You know, they're in The Orphanage."

And she called me a genius.

Which is worse than when she
calls me an idiot, because...

I, I never know what she...

She's bringing them to the opera.

Tonight! In our box.

She's ousted the Van Alders
for these wo-women.

I'm to make the fourth.

- Are they hideous?
- I've no idea.

It's, um...

It's, it's, it's the widow, Mrs. True,

I think, and her companion.

Do you think they might be hideous?

Well, whatever they are,
flirt with the ugly one.

It creates an unexpected balance.

I don't know how to flirt.

God, these people make me uneasy.

What if she's some sort of
Elephant Man woman?

Well, then, she's probably the ugly one.

You have to come.

Oh! To the opera?

Well, you know everything
about flirting.

Plus, you don't mind
when people are odd.

(groans)

It's how we're friends.

- (shoes thunk on floor)
- But it's "Faust"!

Please?

I'll do anything. I mean...

People are already saying unkind things

about Lavinia's passion on the subject.

- If this whole thing doesn't go smoothly...
- Mmm-mmm.

I've got a very important meeting
with the Minister of Finance

about The Ferryman's
next Midnight Carouse.

The Ferryman's? I don't...

Sorry, wh-what does the
Minister of Finance have to do

with your pagan sex club?

HUGO: Whatever he has to do
to get the pictures I have

- from the last one.
- (coughs)

That's how the club works.

It's all quite delicate.
Favors and threats, and then,

one shining night
where no law yet exists.

It's more than just a club.
It's an ethos.

And I won't sit through three
hours of moralistic bellowing

with everyone I know and hate,

just because Lavinia's gone weird.

She's not weird.

I'm an ape.

- But she does push you around.
- I know.

I know.

I will come tonight.

If...

AUGIE: No. Me?

At The Ferryman's?
No. Hugo, no. Please. I...

Sex club is just...

That's just flirting
on a much scarier level.

You don't have to flirt.

You just have to relax.

Endure someone flirting with you.

These are my terms.

(groans)

(cawing)

Oh, he's a pokey one.

As far as society is concerned,

Augustus Bidlow is above reproach,

and beneath contempt.

- He's perfect.
- For what?

You don't have to wear that anymore.

Oh. (laughs) Right. You are the maid.

(sighs)

(energy humming)

I like watching you work.

It's like you're conducting.

Well, get in wrong with the Beggar King,

and you'll get a symphony.

You shouldn't be in that life.

Gift like yours, you should
be the Royal physician,

not patching up gangsters and freaks.

Gift like mine gets me branded
a voodoo witch doctor.

(water dripping)

I gave up being choosy.

Nothing about me not being a freak?

(speaks foreign languages)

Oh, no, just come in. It's only surgery.

(speaks foreign languages)

Oh, right.

I'm going to the opera tonight.

I had a rippling.

"...to accompany me
and my brother Augustus

"to the opening performance of 'Faust.'

(mutters) Lavinia Bidlow."

(speaks foreign languages)

So you send word that
you'd just been attacked,

and she says, "Come out to play."

She even sent an outfit.

And what about the part where you rest?

It's the theater, not hard labor.

And I...

think I need to be there.

Trouble?

Hmm.

Katherine will have supper ready soon.

Does Lavinia really think
I can fit into this?

It's a good dress for you.

(bag clasps shut)

It'll keep pressure on the wound.

(footsteps departing)

- Mrs. True.
- Miss Adair.

You look very fine.

I think so, too.

(indistinct chatter)

It's like something from a storybook.

(speaks foreign languages)

(classical music playing)

I'm not confident in my curtsying.

I'm not confident in my breathing.

Oh, I wasn't planning to breathe.

I think it's considered rude.

- Does it hurt?
- Itches.

Aah, that's much worse.

Are you sure we need to go to this?

You have to say yes or I'll cry, but...

We need to go to this.

Wish I knew why.

(horse whinnies)

(horse whinnies)

(ominous music playing)

- (carriage door closes)
- Aah...

Give us the room.

That's Odium. Pardon the stench.

You cannot get that man into a bath.

Declan Orrun.

The Beggar King.

Or, no...

- Mr. Orrun, Penance Adair.
- DECLAN: Yeah, I know.

- The great inventress.
- Oh, I'm not great.

- AMALIA: I assume you've heard about...
- Do you know how it looks?

Every rum on the street
hearing you calling me

come like a bitch puppy?

- There's channels.
- We were attacked today.

Only once?

They came for Myrtle Haplisch
same time we did.

Probably been after
the Touched for some time,

but now they've been seen.

They're a danger to us, and I'd suspect,

anyone known to be connected with us.

Which you made sure I was
known far and wide to be.

You called me out,
so I'd be forced to help you.

And now you've told me that to my face.

I'm genuinely searching
for a way that this spins out...

that I don't kill you.

It would be better if you didn't.

(laughs softly)
You're a rare fuckin' bird.

You sold us the information
about Myrtle.

And you're wondering
if I sold it to someone else.

Well, wonder away, princess.

My business is mine.

Apart from the sanctity
of my harmonious marriage,

fuck-all is exclusive.

My girls need protection,
and I need information.

Exclusive, about who's hunting
the Touched, and why.

Skip the posture and name your price.

You ain't got that kind of swag.

We're resourceful.

Is that so? How 'bout you get
me the Crown fucking Jewels?

Wait, are you considering that?

We'll start with a gift
for today's thoughtlessness.

An automated motor-carriage,
designed to your specifications.

And you will be paid, if you help us.

(sniffs)

You're mad enough to make this worth it.

But you're mad enough to try not to.

If it goes that way, I will
cut your face to a mess.

This isn't my face.

(carriage door closes)

- (hooves clopping)
- (laughing)

I thought you was gonna scare them.

Spread out your fingers.

- BYSTANDER: Wait.
- Hold up your hand,

and spread out your fuckin' fingers.

(classical violin music)

(indistinct chatter)

♪

(Amalia breathing shakily)

(exhales)

(whispers): Hugo, get off!

I have to go!

I'm done after the cavern ballet
in act five,

right before the prison scene.

Hugo? You listening?

Yes. The prison scene.

- Yes.
- (both chuckle)

(giggles)

(indistinct chatter)

DR. BELDON: Don't you
agree, Miss Bidlow?

Must we fight a war over words?

I'm exhausted by these
overwrought alarums

about the Frenchification
of our language.

It's the end of the century.

These ancient prejudices have no use.

Dr. Beldon,

you adopt new terms
as they become relevant

to your practice of
psychoanalysis, I imagine.

Practically every week of late.

LAVINIA: Language requires
not stasis, but specificity.

I should be thrilled
to excise the word "nice."

It's vague as paste.
Isn't that right, Augustus?

Augustus.

- Sorry?
- We were discussing it earlier.

The specificity of modern language.

Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.

- It's very nice.
- (groans)

(clears throat) If it's, uh, French
terminology we're discussing,

there are a few terms

we Britons simply don't have a word for.

Oh, excuse me. (chuckles)

DR. BELDON: I suppose we all
know the sort of terms he means.

What on Earth is Swann doing here?

I...

No, I know.

S-so impulsive...

Lord Massen. You're well, I hope.

I am, Miss Bidlow. Thank you.
Dr. Beldon, hello. Swann.

We were discussing the panic
a few old men are having

about certain French terms.

There was one debated on the
Parliament floor. What was it?

"Employees."

Employees. And here we
say it, and yet live.

It is not panicking to abhor something.

Neither is it useful to replace

a perfectly good Anglo-Saxon word

with some foreigner's flourish.

In England, we say "the employed."

What possible benefit in
replacing it with "employees"?

AMALIA: The singular.

One may refer to a single employee,

whereas "the employed"

can only be used to describe
a mass of people.

It doesn't allow for the idea
that a single worker

may be a whole and meaningful being.

Mrs. Amalia True. Miss Adair.

May I introduce Lord Massen?

- Mrs. True runs The Orphanage.
- Indeed.

(whispers): Which one's the ugly one?

LORD MASSEN: I take it then
that you are yourselves

among the afflicted?

Touched, yes. We don't
consider ourselves afflicted.

Perhaps some women are more fortunate

in the nature of their
ailment than others.

That's true, but,

more suffer from society's perception

than their own debilitation.

Well, so what's wrong with you?

(laughs nervously)
I, I think he means me.

- Uh, where to begin...
- No, it's just, you, you lo... you...

You look...

You're qu... You're quite nice.

And you, um, y-you have the
charity, The Orphanage.

That seems... normal.

Miss Bidlow runs The Orphanage.

We're just the employed.

Shockingly, I'd say my brother
has spoken for everyone.

They're anxious to know
what your "turns" are.

- (sniffs) A "turn" is a trick.
- AMALIA: It's not a trick.

Penance is an inventor.
A creator, really.

Oh. There's only one Creator. (laughs)

No, uh, I can see energy.

Potential energy. Like with electricity.

I can see where it wants to go, or,

move, or settle.

It helps me put things together.

And yours?

Mrs. True tends to be a few
steps ahead of the rest of us.

Mmm. A prognosticator.

Nothing so grand.

So I shouldn't ask how I'm going to die.

No, but one can safely assume
it will involve a French word.

(chuckles)

- You see the future?
- Snippets.

It's as confusing as it is useful.

You were a soldier.

You've seen men who suddenly
feel themselves back in battle.

Well, sometimes I go forward.

I never said I was a soldier.

- You're probably going to.
- No, it's the eyes.

Assessing every threat.

Lord Massen is the last line of defense

- against the scourge of modernity.
- (scoffs)

I'm old and I've seen too much change

to fight against the tide, but, uh,

chaos is not change.

Shouting for recognition does
not make a people worthy of it.

There's a harmony to our world
that's worth preserving.

AMALIA: As I understand it,

a harmony is made up of different voices

sounding different notes.

Yes. And one is always above the other.

Ladies.

(operatic singing in foreign language)

♪

(singing continues)

(singing continues)

(both moaning, panting)

(Hugo pants, grunts)

(opera music continues)

(sudden fluttering)

(rope straining)

(voices, music crescendo)

- (exploding)
- (flames roar)

(orchestral music playing)

- (shrieks)
- (crowd screaming)

I killed the devil.

- (crowd chattering)
- MAN: It's Maladie!

- (crowd chattering)
- WOMAN: It is Maladie!

MAN (softly): What does she want?

Is no one going to say "thank you"?

(crowd quiets)

It's okay. It's okay.

It's okay.

(kissing noises)

- It's okay, petal. It's not your fault.
- (whirring)

It's the doctor.

Oh! Oh, there's so many people.

(chuckling softly)

Did you all come in hats?

(giggling)

Now all of your brains are naked. No?

You shall have a wreath

of eels

with the tail in your mouth.

(giggles) Please!

Please.

Don't... go.

(shrieking)

(panting)

Devil's speciality is eels. (pants)

- Which is known by you as a serpent.
- (audience gasps)

Oh, but it's only Adam.

It's all the same when it slithers.

(laughing)

(audience exclaiming)

(whispers): Eve had a cunt.

(panting)

Why am I here?

I came to kill an angel witch.

Oops. (chuckles)

But the closer I came,

the more I felt

I was here for a r...

Because I... saw God.

He was all light.

And He put on me His wreath. He came.

He came to us all,

and you all turned your backs on Him.

You lied. You said He never.

But He makes hum.

Oh, He sings. (gasps strained note)

(frustrated yell)
I could never make it out,

but I feel His hum,
like a comb in my throat.

(panting) And I feel it.

I feel it.

Him. Here.

Who... Who...

Ah, bugger it. Take the angel.

(whirring)

- (firing)
- (audience screaming)

(screams) Oh, nothing?

Anyone? Tell me what you want!

Either I am here for a reason,

or for a bonfire.

(audience yelling, chattering)

(Mary vocalizing)

(singing in foreign language)

(singing continues)

(crowd screaming, clamoring)

(Mary continues singing)

(Mary continues singing
in foreign language)

♪

(distant screaming, chattering)

- (thuds)
- Oh, no! She fell!

(grunting, thwacking)

- (slicing)
- (grunts)

- (thwacks)
- (thuds)

MALADIE: Mice. Tiny mice.

(Mary whimpers)

(crashing, shattering)

(fire crackling)

How is that still hard?

- (Maladie panting)
- (Mary whimpering)

(shrieking laughter)

(door thuds, latch clicks)

(thudding)

- MALADIE: Go.
- AMALIA: Damn it.

MALADIE: Come on, don't stop.

(frantic music playing)

♪

La!

Just let me have the girl.

(echoing): Just let me have the girl...

(mournful music playing)

No.

- (knife slashes)
- (grunts)

(thwacks)

- (grunts)
- (knife clinking)

(grunting, punching)

- (grunts)
- (thwacks)

- (stomps)
- (grunts)

Well, you've made a mess,
little songbird.

(yells, grunts)

(gasping)

(thwacks, yells)

- (yells)
- (thwacks)

- Aah!
- (thwacks)

- (alarm blaring)
- (distant yelling)

Boss...

Huh?

Oh.

- (whooshes)
- (explosion)

(bulb pops)

(panicked chatter)

FRANK: Hugo Swann.

Lord Swann.

- But I'll overlook the breach this once.
- (Katie giggles)

I'm sure this must be
a very difficult time for you.

On the contrary.

London's deadliest maniac was
as close to me as Kitty is now.

- It's Katie.
- And the presence of sudden death

makes one appreciate the act of living.

He did seem to appreciate it.

I'll need to interview
his lordship alone, Katie.

- HUGO: I don't see why...
- It'll be quicker.

(ice clatters)

FRANK: But don't leave
the theater, please.

Oh, I could never leave the theater...

So I don't suppose you made any effort

- to stop Maladie.
- (cork pops)

I have it that that's... your job.

Oh, and that there's a young
widow doing it for you.

Amalia True.

Guest of Lavinia Bidlow.
Runs The Orphanage.

Maladie kidnapped a girl.
Mrs. True gave chase.

Champion of the unfortunate,

and she knocks dangerous men about.

Then I guess you're lucky she
don't know what you're up to.

What we're up to.

I think of you as a partner, in a way.

I don't profit by what we do.

(laughing) Well, neither do I.

Yet.

Once you've sent enough
suitable girls my way,

and a certain investor is invested,

The Ferryman's Club will become

not just a profitable business,

but a phenomenon.

I might even forget a few debts.

Take the fucking champagne, Frank.

You'll want it.

You see, I know the name
of the girl Maladie took.

And so do you.

(light fixture squeaking)

(water running)

- (creaking)
- (footsteps approaching)

DR. HAGUE: One little polyglot.

One tiny Touched girl.

That's all you had to bring me.

I like that word. "Touched."

Like the finger of God
gave a few of us a little poke.

Woke us up.

Every subject gets me closer
to finding exactly

where it is He touched us.

Oh!

(SINGSONGS): Not today, though.

Mmm. No. Today...

let's just see where it hurts.

- (drill whining)
- (groaning, shrieking)

- (drilling continues)
- (screaming)

MAN (yelling): Stop him, George!

He's got it in his jacket pocket!

(dog barking)

- (distant yelling)
- (metal clattering, clanging)

(distant coughing)

MAN: We didn't want it anyway!

Fucking tart!

(grunts) Oi. Is that
maniac a friend of yours?

(clinks)

- (exploding)
- (men grunt, thud)

Amalia?

(man groans, thuds)

(object clatters)

Mrs. True?

(breathing shakily, sniffling)

Miss Adair.

You look very fine.

Got into a fight.

PENANCE: It's been a day for that.

I didn't win.

Maladie has the girl.

Mary. Brighton, they said.

She won't kill her.

Not right away. We have time.

We... (sniffles) have some time.

(sniffles)

And you've found an
invigorating way to spend it.

- They started it.
- Mmm.

Not...

- No, I started it.
- I know.

I know. Trouble makes you troublesome.

But nothing sets you off
like good fortune.

Mary's song.

(sighs)

Reachin' right into me.

Tellin' me that...

that I'm here.

I belong here.

And you.

And... all of us that's Touched.

We're woven into
the fabric of the world,

and we're meant to be as we are.

We find Mary. We get her singin'.

They'll all come to us,
and they'll be safe.

They won't be safe.

Less lonely, then.

And that's a start.

It's a start.

(soft orchestral music playing)

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

♪

(orchestral music swells)

♪

♪

(inaudible)

♪

♪

(chokes, coughs)

(coughs, spits)

♪

(coughing)

♪

♪

(light orchestral music playing)

♪

FRANK MUNDI: Are you Amalia True?

Have you got information?

You're Mary Brighton.

Is Mary touched like you?

AMALIA TRUE:
I see things that aren't there,

I drink when I shouldn't...

and I've had more
experience with violence

than I would've liked.

(grunts)

I can assure you she is nothing
like me, she's wonderful.

How are you not wonderful?

(tense music plays)

SPEAKER: There's been a massacre.

Maladie's defiance is at a fever pitch.

(yells)

Are you afraid?

HUGO SWANN: The Touched are the future.

Particularly, our future.

We're being attacked,
and it's getting worse.

The Touched are not here
to be slaughtered for show.

PENANCE ADAIR: And if we
have the power to stop it,

then that is the reason
that we have power at all.

GILBERT MASSEN: They are not special.

They are not a community.

If London is going to be
saved from chaos...

it needs to see chaos.

("London Calling" by The Clash plays)

♪ London calling to the faraway town ♪

♪ Now war is declared... ♪

SWANN: Amalia True?

I do not believe she has any interest

in giving the Touched a safe haven.

MUNDI: Blood.

That ain't her whole story.

TRUE: I do have a mission.

The future of the world
depends on what I'm doing.

(music swells, stops suddenly)

(cackling)

(grunts)

MALADIE: You said you had a mission!

Well, God gave me a mission, too.

(music swells)

♪ And I live by the river ♪

TRUE: It's time to tell them.

Everything.

(music slows)

(music concludes)