All language subtitles for mr.mercedes.s02e06.1080p.webrip.x264-inspirit

Previously on "Mr. Mercedes"...

How's school and shit? You
don't talk much about it.

It's fucking Harvard. It's
Ivy League. Case closed.

So, what you're saying is, he shouldn't

still be lying here?

I can't make him sit up and talk.

But you led me to
believe that you could.

Barry... in R&D, he just
showed me this prototype.

It's an eye-brain thing.

What if you... practiced
what you would say to Brady?

Fuck... you... you
sniveling little prick,

and you'll never hurt me again.

Did you know that Sadie
thought Hartsfield

was communicating with her?

The moment Sadie jumped,

Brady's EKG, through the roof.

- Can I get a copy of those reports?
- What are you doing?

I know that she's been
feeding you information.

I'm gonna walk through

your investigator's
license review myself.

Stay away from Mercy Gen.

Montez threatened to pull our license.

To knowingly go down
that same rabbit hole...

this time, taking Jerome and Holly...

Do you even know what
the hell you're doing?

I don't understand.

- I don't understand.
- Someone killed my dog.

If you help me with this...

I will forget about what
we discussed yesterday.

- Synced & corrected by MementMori -
-- www.addic7ed.com --

Come on, Kermit. Stop
dragging your feet.

Kermit, Kermit.

Isn't the brain a wonderful thing?

Remember that Dr. Seuss book,
"Oh the Places You'll Go!"?

That pretty much sums
it up, don't you think?

Don't move. I have your
dick in a clinch knot.

Pretty withered, as peckers go.

My guess... one yank,
it'll come right off.

Aah!

Maybe I put it on eBay.

Although, I'm not sure
who would bid on it.

Ida, maybe.

Donna, no. Seen it.

Holly?

I used to have a little choo-choo train

when I was younger.
Used to pull it around.

- Choo-choo! Choo-choo!
- Ah!

Where were we?

Yeah, the human brain.

Fascinating.

Look, this could be real,

or you could be having a nightmare,

which would mean you were having a dream

of you having a dream
when you were younger.

Let's think about that.

If, while asleep, the
machinations of the mind

are complex enough for you to be
having a dream within a dream,

all the while factoring
actual conscious obsessions,

is it any wonder the line
between reality and fantasy

sometimes gets a little blurred?

Okay, if this is a dream,

then you'll likely wake up any second,

in which case, if you
want to ask me anything,

now is kind of the time, Sport.

Go ahead.

Did you make that nurse
jump off the ledge?

Ooh, interesting question.

Though it doesn't make
much scientific sense

for me to be able to control
the actions of other beings

from my hospital bed,
does it, Kermie-Wormie?

That would make me rather Godlike

and you a pretty dumb shit

to be picking a fight with the almighty.

Oh, shit, where's my head?

Your morning routine...
You can't think straight

without your morning piss, can you?

All right, big guy, I'm sorry.

Up you get. It's pee-pee time.

Come on. Let's be having you.

Come on. You can do it.

I-I-It's pee-pee time.

Okay, big guy, lots to do today.

Choo-choooo!

Okay, now, don't mind me.

Relax.

Just let it happen.

Take your fucking piss!

Seriously?

Yeah. I mean, it was...
it was beyond vivid.

He was sitting right on
the edge of the chair,

string tied to me dick,

tugging on it like a little choo-choo.

Okay, um, I'm gonna make
a suggestion right now,

one that is sure to repulse you.

Ugh, you're not gonna
propose sex again, are ya?

Well, Bill, actually, I don't
think you're that lucky a guy.

So, no, what I'm gonna say is

you need to get yourself into therapy.

Ah, for fuck's sake.

Bill, you're sitting here,

making room for the
possibility, however slightly,

that a vegetative man...

led you by your penis to your bathroom

on... on... on what?

On a... on a dog leash?

No, it was just a piece of twine.

Sorry, no leather involved.

Lookit, I know it was
a dream, all right?

A dream no less preposterous

than your obsession that
Brady is a body-snatcher.

Honestly, Bill.

You never had a weird dream or two, no?

I'm talking about your reality.

Your procreational digit was in a noose.

Now, I'm no shrink,

but I just think it represents
some sort of crisis

in your sense of your mortality.

Give me a break.

And I'm not finished.

You know it's rude to turn away

when someone's talking to you, right?

Especially when that someone is me.

The fact that it's Brady,

there's puppeteering, and
then there's puppeteering.

Here's my question...

How fucked up do you want to be?

Pathetic.

Deformed.

Weak.

I had to have three surgeries
to fix what you did.

My perforated small intestines?

Oh, yeah. Ulcers.

The internal bleeding
almost killed me twice

in the first week.

You know, the worst of it...

It... it's been...

me against the world my
entire life, you know?

And I've had to rely on

being able to tell the
good from the bad,

to know danger when I see
it, and I didn't see you.

No, you didn't.

Oh, fuck.

I had this tricycle when I was a kid.

It was the... one thing
my parents left me.

My foster parents had it,

and I used to ride that
shit around the RV park.

And one day, this couple
came with their kid.

She was about the same
age as me... Megan.

And Megan's dad beat the
shit out of my foster dad,

said he'd stole from him.

He went inside the trailer,

and he brought back a TV and
radio and some other shit.

And then he tried to take my tricycle.

And I fought.

Whew!

I fought them.

I fought them like a
little crazy maniac.

And, finally, they held me down

and they flipped over the tricycle,

and underneath was a name
written in black marker.

Never noticed it before.

"Megan."

Th-that was the most worthless
that I've ever felt.

Until you stabbed me.

Y-You know what I don't get?

You held that knife an
inch from my fucking eye.

Why didn't you finish the fucking job?

I was painting a bigger
masterpiece that night,

and you got away.

That's what I don't get.

And I'm afraid that if I don't get it,

I'm just gonna be
completely lost forever.

I need to know.

Why did you let me live?

Why'd you show me mercy?

Fucking why?

Fucking why? For mercy?

What's going on here? Who are you?

I'm Lou Linklatter.

- I'm one of the people he tried...
- Well, you can't be here.

- Get your fucking hands off me.
- Security!

- You cannot be...
- Get your fucking hands off me!

Security!

He doesn't need your protection.

_

Get your fucking hands off me!

Get your fucking hands off me!

Mercy was my mistake.

Get your fucking hands off me!

The hell's going on?

- It's Hartsfield.
- What?

Hartsfield.

No. No.

_

Fuck. Fuck.

_

What exactly did he say?

He evidently didn't vocalize.

He made letters appear on the screen,

and then it vanished.

You don't know what it said?

That's all I know.

It was a lot of chaos and confusion,

and that's how word swirled
its way down to me.

You know, in the bowels
of the fucking E.R.,

which is where he transferred me.

Do we know anything
more about the visitor?

Rumor is it was one of his victims...

the girl he stabbed at the gala.

Ah, shit.

Okay, well, if you hear more...

Don't come to the hospital, Bill.

I will come to you.

So, what was the message, though?

It was unclear.

Was it in Latin?

Did you not hear me say,

- "It was unclear"?
- Do not snap at me, okay?

I'm not my mother's snap-ee,
and I won't be yours.

So, I looked up the message
that the dog killer left.

It's "occupandi temporis."
It's "seize the moment."

Um, some people use it interchangeably

with "carpe temporis,"

but others use "occupandi" specifically

because "occupandi" means
more to occupy, to inhabit.

So you think Brady's inhabiting people?

You're worse than me.

Well, what do you think he's doing?

I don't know.

I do have some good news.

Montez has agreed not
to pull our license.

- Really?
- Yeah.

That is good.

If we find out who killed his dog.

Okay.

So is there bad news?

Um...

Uh, no, no, not bad-bad. No, no.

I meant I've decided to, um,

entertain the idea of
psychological... help.

Because?

What do you mean "because"?

Due to public fucking demand.

I mean, between yourself,
Jerome, Donna, Ida,

everybody's laying claim to me
being as mad as a box of frogs.

Wait, but we're claiming that less now

because Brady could be
occupandi temporis-ing.

I mean, all my research reveals
it to be less far-fetched.

You know what?

Well, it's more than just me obsessing.

You know what I mean?

I mean, I may have
hallucinated this morning.

How so?

I had a dream. It was
different. It was more...

It was like sort of a heightened
reality or something.

It made me wonder if it was
a fucking dream at all.

Okay.

What did you see?

Him.

I mean, look. I mean, given
the case and how you obsess,

it would make sense that

he would invade your dreams, too, right?

Yeah, that's another word for
"occupy," isn't it, "invade"?

Okay, so what else?

Donna thinks I'm not well.

Ida thinks I'm not well.

You know, I'm... I'm
starting to take the point.

I mean, why...

Just let's say for a second

that Brady can get inside of people.

Yeah.

What's possessing me to
try to get close to him?

Because if you see a wrong,
you try to right it.

Yeah.

It's the same thing as before.

When that girl came in, his
heart rate practically doubled.

- Brain activity, though? Coma levels.
- And who was she?

All she said was she was
one of his victims.

I need you to find her.

If she was treated
here after the attack,

then she's in the system.

Okay, well, he's got the fMRI today.

We'll find out if he's in there.

I'll prep him for the magnet.

Oh, hey, Seth.

I want the results sealed
to everyone but me, okay?

Well, that's not protocol.

That's not protocol?

Does that look like protocol
lying in that fucking bed?

So, who was that girl?

What does she mean to you?

All right, listen to me, Brady.

We are both on the same side, okay?

I'm your "get out of
vegetative state free" card.

Add to that,

should you be brought up to
trial, I'm your defense.

I've seen your orbital cortex.

I can point to the low activity,

the genetic variants.

I will testify that you had
no control over your actions.

Do you see what I'm saying, Brady?

I'm not just talking about
bringing you back to life

but a free life at that.

But to do that, you and I,
we need to work together.

Come on.

_

Is this the only camera you have?

Thought it was enough.

He's got an odd kind of
swagger, doesn't he?

Mm-hmm.

Heavy work boots.

Did you find any tread?

Uh, right here.

Uh, size 12 Timberland.

They sold 2,300 of them in the
last 5 years in this county.

Fuck.

Okay, I've been through combat,
and I can't watch this shit.

Ah, Jesus.

Problem is, you're not
telling me everything.

You're not.

So maybe this is a good
time to start, right?

I don't know much.

As for what you do know?

Our Dr. Frankenstein has
done some experiments

on regenerating the brain.

He's had some positive
developments with our friend.

That's why I was running
a little interference,

tried to back you off.

So what's your angle?

Come on. You haven't exactly
been playing by the book,

have ya?

You got an angle?

Maybe a little celebrity of my own.

And what do I get?

Someone kills my fucking dog.

Yeah.

Yeah.

You know, I... I believe in God.

You know, like heaven and shit.

I figure when someone dies,

you can still connect with them.

I still talk to my mother.
I know she can hear me.

But with a dog...

it's all about, like, the
eye contact and the touch.

When a dog is gone, I don't know,

it's like the most gone there is.

Yeah, that's why I got a tortoise.

You know, figures to outlive me,

so I don't have to concern myself

with talking to him in
heaven or any of that.

What do you mean, like a turtle?

I mean like a tortoise.

I don't care for turtles.

Who else was on the floor

when you were talking to Brady?

I was the only one in the room.

I mean, yes, there were people
in the fucking corridor...

doctors, nurses, and shit.

Wait a minute. There was, um...

There was a big guy.

He was, uh, pushing a...

a book cart or something,

but he couldn't have
fucking heard what I said.

I'm not going crazy. I was the
only one in the fucking room.

Who'd be so depraved to
stab an innocent dog?

Another reason for the tortoise.

Yeah, they got the hard shell.

All right, let me see if I can
check any of that stuff out.

The doctor's name is Babineau.

B-A-B-I-N-E-A-U.

Just see what you can pull up.

Okay. And can't you just
question him directly?

- I mean, see what he...
- No. Doctor/patient privilege.

Anyway, from what I'm gathering,

he doesn't figure to be forthcoming.

Just get on it, will ya?

Okay. And where are you heading now?

I'm meeting an acquaintance for coffee.

An acquaintance? What acquaintance?

Like, a "none of my
business" acquaintance

or a work-related acquaintance?

Jesus balls. Are we married now?

Oh, "Jesus balls" yourself.

Your vulgarity doesn't
work on me anymore.

Just get on Babineau, would you, please?

Let's get him stabilized.

All right.

Okay, that's good.

You got enough tubing?

- Yeah, give me a little bit more.
- Okay.

We're soaring over the
Empire State Building.

At 102 stories high and
almost 1,500 feet tall,

the art-deco building
was originally part...

John Jacob Astor's
descendants building the...

So, how you doing overall?

Uh...

Pretty good. Pretty good.

Oh, yeah, I mean, you said "overall,"

so overall, I'm doing
really shitty, actually.

How are you?

Pretty much the same.

Uh...

The word is that when you visited him,

his heart rate shot up.

So... so does that mean

that he somehow knew that I was there?

I don't know.

I mean, to be honest with ya...

... I'm... I'm... I'm finding it hard

to keep up with the science of it,

but bottom line seems to be
that anything is possible.

Fuck.

Yeah, you and me both.

I thought that I was gonna
feel better going to see him,

that I'd get some sort of, like...

closure or some sort of shit,

and I didn't.

I just feel fucking worse.

You know the worst part?

The worst part is that I
kind of felt bad for him

lying there with all
that shit in the bed.

I felt bad for him,
for Brady Hartsfield.

I don't want to fucking feel
bad for Brady Hartsfield.

Did you say anything to him?

A couple... couple things.

Uh, he stabbed me, so I
kind of had a bone to pick.

Good for you.

I...

I feel bad...

for everything that's happened to you.

You tried to warn me.

Remember?

Told you you had the
wrong ice-cream man.

I feel like, um, when I was
standing in that room,

that he was still among us.

I don't know if you've felt that.

I don't think he's gone.

You know what they say,

that nobody's really gone,
right, even after they die?

That, like, they live on

in the people that they leave behind.

And for Brady Hartsfield, that's, uh...

that's you and me.

That's about it.

All right, when I played the description

of the Empire State
Building for him, uh,

increased blood flowed to
the parahippocampal gyrus.

Then I played the commercial about

Taylor Swift's facial structure,

and it triggered the
fusiform gyrus region

just like a healthy, conscious patient.

I mean, he's in there.
It's pretty clear.

Al? Al Jursak?

That's my name. What can I do ya for?

I'm Bill Hodges. I'm a
private investigator.

P.I.? You mean like Magnum?

- No, sir.
- No, no. Baretta, huh?

Nor him.

Uh, may I ask you a few questions
if you've got a minute?

Well, I-I-I kind of do
have to get home soon,

uh, 'cause I-I promised Reggie
I'd give him a haircut.

Ah, yeah? Who... who's Reggie?

He's my brother.

See, I give him haircuts,
he makes me soup.

Ah, that sounds like a good plan.

Do you remember a Mr. Montez?

- The district attorney man.
- Yeah, yeah.

Remember the first time that
he visited Brady Hartsfield?

- Were you in the room?
- No. Oh, no, no, no, sir.

Dr. Babineau told everyone

to give him and Mr.
Montez total privacy.

Okay, all right, well, listen,
do you mind me asking you,

where were you yesterday afternoon?

I-I-I-I don't remember.

- You don't remember?
- No, sir.

That happen to you often,
that you don't remember

where you were yesterday afternoon?

Well, uh, I don't know.

Most... most of the times, I do,

but sometimes I don't.

Well, if you remember, will
you remember to call me?

Yes, mister.

Yeah, sure. I will, sir.

What you got going on your door there?

- Oh! Oh, that's just probably blood.
- Blood?

Yeah, you know, we get it
in our shoes in the E.R.

You know, blood, urine, feces.

You don't wear booties?

Oh, no, we absolutely do,

but sometimes they tear.

You know, uh, actually, uh,
a lot of times, they tear.

Here, let me clean it off for ya.

Oh, no, no, you don't have to do that.

- No, no, no.
- That's okay. No, but it's...

It's okay. You okay with that?

You okay if I clean the blood
off your car there, Mr. Jursak?

Of course, of course.

You know, mister, you
really are a nice man.

Yeah, you have yourself
a good afternoon.

You, too, sir.

And... and... and... and
thanks again for, you know...

This is... this is fantastic, Felix.

Yeah.

He communicated.

He communicated.

I mean, as far as "fuck offs" go,

this one can be monetized
for a billion dollars

and who knows how many multiples.

Yeah.

Why the ambivalence?

Honestly?

Kind of scared me a little bit.

And, you know, first on a,
"What have I done?" level.

And second?

Well, he's... he's a killer.

He's murdered people.

I was suddenly afraid of him.

Well, what do you think he's gonna do?

He's just gonna hop out of
the bed and come after you?

No.

All I can say is I was frightened.

Do you know what the most
terrifying thing in the world is?

Success.

So maybe you and I should
both be scared shitless.

Felix, we did it.

You... you did it.

Do you realize how close you are

to becoming a household name?

And not just in the medical industry.

This is huge.

Maybe.

I am so... proud of you.

What are you doing?

Oh, you don't... you don't
know what I'm doing?

Hmm?

Why don't we go upstairs?

Why? We don't have kids yet.

What have you got against kitchens, huh?

Cornell undergrad, Columbia Medical,

and he did his residency at New
York-Presbyterian Hospital.

Mr. All America right here.

Mm, his wife, Cora, works for Vitalta.

A pharma company?

Yeah.

Uh, made its name with ErythoFlo.

It's a stroke drug.

ErythoFlo.

- Mm-hmm.
- ErythoFlo.

Hmm. It says it's 98% similar

to a drug created by a
Jiànkang Ni Pharmatech.

- Jiànkang.
- Does that help us at all?

Let's see.

Well, here's a photo of Cora
with the CEO of Jiànkang Ni.

- Mm.
- This photo was taken

one year before ErythoFlo
hit the market.

That's interesting.

Okay, look, check this out.

Amnesty International does not
like Cora Babineau's friends

over here at Jiànkang.

Let me see.

It says they filed a lawsuit
alleging civil-rights violations

in prisons.

Look, gag orders all
around a month later.

Okay, but what is a
pharmaceutical company

doing in prisons?

Give any more thought to my suggestion

about getting some psychological help?

Why do I need a shrink
when I got you, Ida?

Well, if that's an invitation
for my analysis...

you are an addict,

and Brady is your drug.

That it? That all you got?

He brought an intensity to your life,

an adrenaline high, a dopamine rush...

call it what you want.

You became more alive

when Brady Hartsfield entered your life.

He even unwittingly opened
you up to love with Janey.

It certainly wasn't his intention,

but he made your life richer,

more exciting, more thrilling.

He brought you back from the dead, Bill.

Which... might explain why

you're trying to bring
him back from the dead.

That's very impressive, Ida.

Here's the thing.

It's not my imagination
that's bringing him back.

He communicated with a doctor today.

Really?

That's the rumor.

So the official line to
anyone who tells me I'm mad

is that I'm gonna ride the madness out

just a little bit longer

before I start flirting
with ways to get rid of it.

- My God.
- Yeah, I know.

Bill, I found something on
the doctor and his wife.

- They're mixed up in something.
- What?

Well, before we get into that,

the preliminary results came back

from the blood on Library Al's car.

It's canine.

Yeah.

Cheers.

Do me a favor.

If I go to break this
guy's fucking neck,

just look the other way.

We'll have none of that.

We could be dealing with
diminished capacity.

I really do think this guy's
a bit of a simpleton.

A simple man doesn't stab a dog.

There's nothing simple about this case.

He killed my fucking dog.

Seems to be the refrain.

Motherfucker.

Easy.

Police! Police!

- Hands where we can see them.
- Reggie! Reggie!

Reggie!

Al! Al!

Hey, Al!

You motherfucker! You
killed my fucking dog!

Fuck you, you piece of shit!

I... I didn't do anything!

- Fuck you!
- Get your hands off my fucking brother!

I swear I didn't do anything!

Hey, check it out.

Oh, no, no. I didn't do anything.

So they found the bloody
gloves and the knife,

so he must be guilty.

You would think so.

But you don't think.

You know when you can smell evil?

Well, you can sniff the
lack of it sometimes.

I mean, no motive, no record.

Makes as much sense as Sadie
McDonald diving off that roof.

And one thing that Sadie and
Library Al had in common...

- Brady Hartsfield.
- Mm-hmm.

Okay, so, this is everything I
have on the doctor and his wife.

She has some serious ties

to this pharma company in China

that just so happens to be working on

this big, uh, brain regeneration drug.

- Wow.
- Yeah.

Just... Just park that for a second.

Just take a seat, Jerome, will ya?

What are you doing here?

Uh, tech support?

Thought any more about school?

I'm on break.

You going back?

I don't know.

I kind of like it here.

Yeah, that was my concern.

Well, what's not to
like about this place?

I mean...

This is our lives. It's
your summer fling.

What if I want this life?

Who'd want this life?

Hey.

Me.

Why?

Because there's a world
that nobody talks about,

a world that lives under the surface

of what we say is the world, you know?

The fuck you talking about?

This world, i-it's the blood,

the oxygen, the air, you know,

the lower G.I. system,
the things we can't see,

but it's actually really
keeping us alive.

Go on.

I want to be part of that world.

That's fine.

Be a part of it with a Harvard degree.

Harvard's lies and...

and whole subtext language,

that's the complete opposite

of what's leaving people's mouths.

You know that, right?

It's actually fucking designer labels

and $100,000 cars

and people calling me "bro"
and "homey" and "yo"

just 'cause they swear that they're cool

or they're on some sort
of hipster-friendly wave

or... or this whole
post-modern meta-pseudo

"I'm not really racist but I'm
actually fucking racist."

It's fucking...

It sucks. It really sucks.

You lost me at subtext.

It's just cold and empty.

This doesn't solve things.

This would do it for now.

And maybe you're right, Bill.

'Cause I don't know anything.

I don't know shit.

No.

Read those.

Okay.

There is nothing here for him.

He's got an opportunity
that very few people get.

If there's one thing I
learned from my mother,

the hardest thing about parenting

is knowing when not to.

The fuck does that mean?

Hey, hey.

So, here's our golden boy.

This isn't Vitalta equipment.

It's ours.

It prevents muscle atrophy.

Any more communication?

No, nothing since "fuck off."

Hey, Brady.

How you doing in there, big guy?

I'm Cora.

I'm very much looking
forward to meeting you.

Ooh.

Wow, you're kind of cute.

Doc, babe...

you did not tell me about wifey.

Holy shit.

What can I do to get you to
come out of that coma, huh?

Hey, wait, his heart rate's going.

I do have that effect on people.

Excuse me, Dr. Babineau?

My name's Bill Hodges.
Might ring a bell or not.

Uh, first of all, let
me congratulate you

on your fine work, both of you.

You've made remarkable
progress with Mr. Hartsfield.

I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean.

He's in a coma, one that's
likely irreversible.

You know, modesty, I admire.
False modesty, not so much.

Word is all over the hospital
and a bit beyond its walls,

as well, that Brady has an
ability to communicate.

Who told you he communicated?

I have several sources.

I'm gonna get right to the point.

That would be nice.

I've done my research on you and you.

You may have done some
on me. It's irrelevant.

I have a special relationship
with Brady Hartsfield.

You said that you were
getting to the point?

I did.

I can understand your impatience.

Time is money, right?

And you've got a lot riding
on Brady's recovery,

you and your Chinese
pharmaceutical affiliates.

Okay, so, here's where I can be of help.

Now, you want Brady
to emerge, all right?

It's possible, in fact probable,

that the only person who
can really get to him

is the one who already got to him.

That would be me.

So I'm offering...

Let me be part of whatever
protocols you've got going here.

I can get that crazy bastard
to crawl out of his hole.

How exactly do you...

We appreciate your offer,

but there are no protocols at
play here out of the ordinary.

And as far as my private
corporate interests,

none of them have any
bearing on Brady Hartsfield

or his treatment.

So it's just a funny coincidence, then,

that your company makes a
brain-regenerating drug

that could make you billions of dollars

should it prove to be effective.

Yeah, it certainly is a coincidence.

I mean, funny or not,

I guess that does depend
on one's sense of humor.

It's fucking funny.

Now, let me be perfectly honest, okay?

I know what you're doing.
I know what you're up to.

If you wake this particular brain,

you'll be opening a box

that you may not be able to close

and shit so ugly you
cannot even imagine it

will spill out.

So let me be there if it happens, okay?

I'll even provoke the fucker.

That way, if he does show up,

I can put the cuffs on him
and we bring him to trial.

And... And if he doesn't
come out of hiding?

We ship him to a secure facility.

No. Never happen.

Are you serious?

100%, never happen.

You're risking lives?

I think you're being a little
dramatic and a tad unhinged.

Were we looking for help,

we would truly appreciate yours.

Mm-hmm.

You know, that sad fuck
is your lottery ticket

only if he wakes up.

The best bet to provoke him...

right here.

What's in it for you?

He killed people dear to me,

and given what's been going
on in your hospital lately,

I'm not sure that his
potential has been capped.

I'll take him dead, I'll take him alive,

I'll take him shipped
out outside the city

where he cannot hurt people.

But this in between shit...

... it makes me nervous.

Yeah, I really do understand that.

I wish that we could help you.

You need to wish harder.

We need to move faster.
You need to wake him up.

Come on, because some private
detective came and told...

He's working for somebody, Felix.

My bet's the police.

- M-Maybe FBI, I don't know.
- What? Why?

What, you think that he's coming
to us because he wants justice?

Please. Who does that?

That fat smurf is on somebody's payroll,

and it's either government
surveillance, or worse,

it could be corporate.

You need to wake Hartsfield up

before this all blows up in our
faces and it all gets shut down.

They have no grounds to shut us down.

If anything, we're on
stronger turf than ever.

He's snooping around in
our Chinese protocols,

and it's making me fucking nervous.

Why?

Cora, why?

So, you know that they
tested it on monkeys.

Yeah.

They didn't stop there.

What are you saying?

In a prison in China, they
gave a test group Cerebellin

and they gave a control
group sugar pills,

and the test group complained
of blinding headaches,

persistent nausea,
exhibited signs of palsy.

But it's what happened
to the control group

that ended the experiment.

Jesus, what happened?

They all committed suicide.

The test group?

The control group.

The one on the sugar pills.

- Why would sugar cause...
- It wasn't the sugar.

The test group got into their minds

and fucked around in there.

You're telling me the test group

caused the control group
to take their own lives?

It's possible.

It's very possible.

And you didn't think to
tell me this before?

I'm under strict confidentiality.

I'm your fucking husband!

They're my employer.

Fuck.

Felix.

Fuck me.

Hey.

Do not turn this into
something it's not.

What the fuck am I
turning this into, Cora?

I just need you to stay focused.

It's not hard to connect
you to Jiànkang Ni.

No one's gonna care about that,

no one's gonna give two shits

if you get in there and you open him up

and you get him talking.

You.

You put your forceps
on his regrown tissue

and you tell him that
if he doesn't speak,

you're gonna rip it out
of his fucking head.

How am I supposed to justify
a craniotomy at this point?

I don't know. You had no choice

due to increased inter-cranial pressure.

And what if they don't buy it?
What then?

I do not function well from
a state of fear, Felix.

Neither do I!

Are you fucking kidding me?

You don't get it, you don't understand,

and you can't understand,
because you were born safe.

Oh, come on. Don't give me that shit.

You lied to me.

If he remains in a coma,
Felix, and they get a warrant,

we're never gonna survive this.

We will never survive.

That... That detective
may be nothing more

than what he represented himself to be.

I know a man on a
mission when I see one,

and I do not want to
be that man's mission.

Fuck.

- How's it going, buddy?
- Whoa. No visitors.

And I'm under specific orders
to restrict your access.

Well, I'm overriding those orders.

And you are?

The district attorney in charge

of reducing your career to
rubble should you piss me off.

I'm Antonio Montez.

I'm here to interview the suspect.

Yes, sir.

I might have more luck on my own.

All right, go for it.

Hear me in there?

Olly olly oxen free.

That's what we used to say as kids

when we were playing hide-and-seek,

trying to get people to come out.

Olly olly oxen free.

Come on out, Brady.

Come out, come out wherever you are.

Don't worry. I haven't come
to kill you this time.

Actually, it's more to say thanks.

You pointed it out to me,

and I think the penny
has finally dropped.

Wittingly or unwittingly,

you... enriched my life, quote-unquote.

Last year, I was alone.

I was drinking myself to death.

Now I have friends, a community,
a job, satisfaction even,

that I helped put an end to
some evil, specifically yours.

Who knew that you could make me happy...

make me whole, anyway.

So, wait, wait.

This is where you get in my head?

My head?

I don't think so, you fat fuck.

Anyway, that's all.

Just came to say thanks and goodbye.

Fred.

Fred. The fuck are you?

All right, it'll be in there

a hell swing and a month ago there.

Jesus fucking Chri...

It's borderline stalking now.

You okay?

Fine.

Really?

Really, yeah.

I remember the big speech you gave me.

I've given you many.

Yeah, the one about after
your husband either died

or faked his death to
escape your clutches.

That one.

Mm. I remember.

Well, you said you didn't
know how you'd go on,

so you just started by
making breakfast, right,

and then you went to the library
or the store or whatever.

I... Yeah, I fucking lost
interest at that point.

Anyway, the point was
that you just woke up

and did stuff and then some more stuff,

and suddenly, you had a life.

One you wanted, even.

I'm doing that.

I just wake up, I go to work,
mostly with people I like,

I come home, I have a beer,
say hello to a tortoise,

sometimes a stalker.

I don't know if it's a...

it's a life, but it's a start.

It's a start.

There's no sex in it for ya.

God.

Good night, Bill.

Jesus Christ.

Good night, Ida.

Good night.

_

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