All language subtitles for American Horror Story s11e02 Thank You for Your Service.eng

- ...550, you're live.
- MAN: Robyn?

- Yes.
- Hi. My name's Robbie.

I just want to tell you
I love your show.

Thank you so much.

I have a question
for the dancer, actually.

- Yes.
- Hi.

- Hi. How you doin'?
- Um, you say you've done one film?

- Yes.
- Yeah, was that the one

in which you're dressed
as a sheepdog

and lick a little boy's
unwiped tushy

- in a film called Sadie?
-(laughing)

- No, not at all.
- Oh, I'm sorry.

(laughter, indistinct chatter)

(vacuuming)

(vacuum powers down)

MAN:
Nine rows, 28 centimeters. That's good.

No. Not yet.

Mm.

(indistinct voices)

(muffled screaming)

Oh. That must be
really hot, still.

I don't know why
I sterilize the needles.

It's... an old habit.

(muffled yelling)

I'm going to lift your arms

until the shoulder joints dislocate.

You will feel it.

- The Vietcong perfected that.
-(loud, muffled groaning)

Stop moving.

- I don't want any fluids
on this carpet. -(groans)

I can tell from your face
that you're angry,

scared, in pain.

The others were, too.

There's a lot of pain in us.

I want to make that legible.

I made some mistakes by removing

things from the others.

They were just bodies.

I need to give them people.

Homosexuals are central

to the natural order of things.

And you will be a totem to that.

They think we bleed differently.

But we're all the same.

And they will see the blood.

There's a war that's coming.

It will fix some things.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, that won't do.

A fellow brother-in-arms.

You can't serve twice.

I'm going to put you
back to sleep.

You'll wake up.

You can tell the police
all about me,

but they'll do nothing.

They don't want to.

If they haven't
caught me by now...

(Gino groans)

Thank you for your service.

♪ ♪

Hey.

-(knocking)
-(panting)

Hey, you okay in there?

(panting)

Hey.

(door rattles)

(coughs)

Help.

♪

♪

(sighs)

(door opens)

Well, you have something
called cryptosporidium.

Spare me the details. All I want
to know is what pills to take.

The ones that
my GP gave me did shit,

which is what I've been doing
for three weeks.

- Which is why I'm here.
- It's an amoeba,

which I think
is sexually transmitted

and incredibly rare.

I've seen four people with it
in the last month.

Usually the immune system
takes it down.

These pills
should get rid of it.

And you should stay in bed
for at least three days.

Oh, luckily,
bed's my favorite place to be.

Mm. And I don't
have to tell you

to refrain from sexual activity.

And yet you just did.

Thanks, Doc.

(sighs heavily)

She's got me on this new thing
called... zimelidine.

Helps with serotonin levels
or something.

- What are you depressed about?
- Oh, I don't know.

The world's such a perfect place
for queer people.

Oh, no. I'm too angry
to be depressed.

I just can't figure out why I'm
so tired all the fucking time.

I got this weird rash.

Nobody can figure it out.

Hopefully Dr. Wells can.

What about you?

I know you're listening to us.

There's a thing
called medical privacy.

It's protected by law.

I could sue you
just for asking me that.

(laughs)

I'm just joking.

I'm in for a little scratcheroo.

Damn cat bit me, little hellion.
(chuckles)

If she weren't so cute,
I'd ask you if you wanted

- to adopt her.
- WOMAN: Mr. Whitely?

WHITELY:
Are you ready for me, Doctor?

Uh, yes. Mr. Whitby?

It's Whitely.

And I have a rash.

A rash that won't go away.

ADAM:
This is, uh,

my friend Sully,
John Sullivan.

I was hoping you could print
something in your paper,

a notice or anything. I mean,

the police don't seem
that interested in finding him.

- What's your name again?
- Adam.

Yes, Adam, I'm well aware.

-(sighs)
- What happened to your hand?

"Do you know what it feels like

"to have hot needles
hammered into your nail beds?

"It feels like
an injection of flame,

"an incineration
of every nerve in your body,

"shooting inward
from your fingertips.

"I was abducted last night.

"Someone drugged me,
tied me up, tortured me,

"held a blade to my heart.

"I was held captive for hours.

"I don't know
who did this to me,

"but I am certain
that our boys in blue know

"that a killer is preying on

"and butchering gay men
in lower Manhattan.

"For God knows what reason,
I was spared.

"I was saved by better angels

"when I was sure
no one would come.

"I survived.

Who will be next?"

- You think there will be more?
- I'm tracking

a 30% increase in violence
against gay men

in the last two years.

17 beatings and bashings
in the last three weeks

in the Village alone.

And guess where
there's no use in going?

The NY-fucking-PD!

- Taxi!
-(honking) GINO: They hate us. The police-

- hate us. This city hates us.
- Fuck you!

GINO:
And I know people in City Hall

and in the NYPD-- gay men--

and some of them
I know really well.

If I hadn't been spared,

would they have even
looked into my death?

Risked outing themselves by
emanding answers, or would theyd

just have gone on
with their lives?

"Whatever that gay guy
got mixed up in

must have gotten him killed."

But I woke up.

I am alive.

And I will do whatever I can.

I will sit in front of this

pathetic, shitty typewriter,

and I will tell
the six-dozen like-minded homos

who read this
that they are after us.

At least that's something.

Your friend isn't
coming home, Adam.

He's probably dead.

And you're gonna
have to have a long think

about what you want
to do about that.

What if people
had a number to call?

Someone on the other end
of the line who'd just listen,

- writes it all down?
- I'm sor...

You want to start a hotline?

No. No, just a way to...
gather, I guess.

Get tips and report
on what's really happening.

Make a record of it all.

Give them a phone number to dial
so that they can say

what they've seen,
and-and we record it.

- We share it.
- We?

I'm angry, too.

I've been angry. I just...

I didn't know
what to do with it.

I want to start a fire.

You'll be putting a target
on your back.

I already have one.

I don't know.
I just... I...

I didn't think this was
gonna be a job interview.

Neither did I.

("Call Me" by Blondie playing)

Color me your color, baby ♪

Color me your car ♪

Color me your color, darling ♪

I know who you are ♪

Come up off your color chart ♪

♪ I know where
you're coming from ♪

- Call me ♪
- Call me ♪

On the line, call me ♪

Call me any, anytime ♪

- Call me ♪
- Call me ♪

♪ I'll arrive,
you can call me any ♪

Day or night, call me ♪

- Call me ♪
- Call me ♪

♪ For your lover's
lover's alibi ♪

- Call me. ♪
-(shouts)

(indistinct chatter)

(knocking)

Oh, Jesus.
Keep them away from me.

Uh, hi. Excuse me.
Can I help you?

- We want to talk to him.
- Um, he's on deadline.

- Uh, can I tell him anything?
- Yeah.

Tell him we read his piece.
Pulitzer level stuff.

It's moving, and we're so sorry
about his ordeal.

Oh, dear. It looks like someone
could use a good manicurist.

- Fuck you.
- Fuck you.

Fucking fuck you.
You came to kill me?

Come on. Let's go.

Give me that
before you hurt yourself.

Came to ask you
what we did last week.

To transform this gay paper--

the only
legitimate one, anyway--

back to the way it started

and now only pretends to be.

There's nothing in this rag
about lesbians

or anyone without a penis,
not one fucking thing.

You're a gay male chauvinist.

You don't write
like a stupid man, Gino,

- but what else are we to assume?
- Maybe we can find a time

to sit down and discuss
all this, but right now,

there's a real-life killer
out there,

right here, right now,

stalking, torturing,

maybe even someone that we know.
You want to join us?

-'Cause we could sure as hell
use the help. - Excuse me.

Sorry. Uh, he wants your
top choice for the cover art.

It's a full page,
and he said to remind you to

"make it fucking sexy."

GINO:
Make it sexy.

Boring.

This fucking queen.

No.

She makes me smile.

Not one woman in his picks.

I guess she doesn't count, huh?

All right, here's an idea.

I have to do
a double issue for Pride

because it brings in advertisers,

but I do not want to do it.

How about this?
You three--

you take that dusty little desk
over there and do your thing.

You can rail
about the stalled ERA,

pap smears, male-only gay bars--
I don't care--

whatever blows your skirt up.

Please just stay out of my face.

(laughs)
Mmm.

Jesus. Go.

(laughing)

Can I get a Coke or something?

We've been here for hours.
I got to use the bathroom, too.

Please.

Why did you give an interview

to that faggot reporter?

You have a thing against cops?
You, uh,

trying to make us look bad?

You get busted sucking dick
in the Rambles

one time too many?

I personally took your statement
about your friend.

Does that sound like
the cops not caring?

Huh? You told me.
You stated in that article

that your friend was attacked
by some big leather guy.

That makes no sense.

The men in that community are
usually harmless and benign.

After all the shit we put up
with protecting your people!

Hey! Hey, I'm allowed
to say what I want to say

without getting
harassed or detained.

Yeah, he's right. He's right.

We are sworn officers
of the law.

We are constrained
by the limits of the law.

(yells, grunts)

MULCAHEY:
You better call that reporter back

and tell him
you were wrong about us.

Fuck you.

MULCAHEY:
Tell him you lied for attention.

Fuck you! Fuck you!

Okay.

Lock him up.

How long are you going
to keep me in here?

Well, the boss wanted to lose
your file and let you rot.

I'll let you out soon.

Anyone here know about you?

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Right.

- Do you still have my card?
- Mm-hmm.

You do?

If you see
or hear anything out there,

you call me directly.

I'm working on something here,
but quietly.

And stay off the streets, okay?

I don't want to hear a story
about you getting shot

in the back
running away from cops.

Gino, hi. Uh, excuse me.
I need to talk to you

- about something important.
- Why would I want to talk to you?

You've made Patrick's life
a living hell.

Oh, well, I'm sorry
if I got a little mad sometimes.

I guess living with someone
who lies to you

with every breath can make
a woman a little unstable.

- What do you want?
- Are-are you okay?

What happened? Did you get into
an accident or something?

(clears throat)

I read your article.

- Oh, you read The Native?
- Yes.

I live in the fucking Village.

Do you really think
there's a killer out there?

I know there is.

You don't have to worry.
He just likes killing boys.

Yeah, for now.

So, I've just been clearing out
the rest of Patrick's things.

You know, the owner lets us
store stuff in the basement,

and, uh, I found this box hidden
under some of his other things,

so...

Is this the kind of thing
you two like to do?

Oh, is that what this is?

This is you trying to trick me
into talking about our sex life.

Okay, no, that's not it at all.

Okay? These things scared me.

Now, I told you that Patrick
is a very good liar.

And if he lied to me,
he could be lying to you.

He could be lying to everyone.

Your jealously has just...
it's made you paranoid.

Oh, you didn't know
about this, did you?

I got to go.

Thanks for picking me up.

I wanted a witness so they know
someone knows I was there.

Thought I was gonna
have to bail you out.

No, they didn't even
charge me with anything.

These psycho cops
just brought me in

and roughed me up
for hurting their feelings.

This city's gone insane.

The cops are just as bad
as the criminals.

It was always like that.

You were just too white
to notice.

Enough with this doom and gloom.

Summer is here. Lighten up.

You should come out
with me tonight.

There's a party.
It will blow your mind.

It's in the most run-down part
of the city.

Why would I want
to go somewhere like that?

It's not what you think.

This rich queen bought
a big old warehouse down there

where they used to store stuff
before loading it on to ships.

- Uh-huh.
- He throws these wild parties.

Everyone gets all dressed up
in costumes,

and there are candelabras
and poetry readings.

Real Parisian shit.

He likes the contrast of
the decadence with the squalor.

He sounds like an asshole.

He is, but so what?

All the cool downtown artists
will be there.

Daniel Kanowicz, Hans Henkes,

and me, of course.

You have to come.

- You may even get laid.
-(chuckles)

If you wanted monogamy,

you should have
been born straight.

Oh. (laughs)

♪

(indistinct conversation)

Jesus was a carpenter.
He can't save you from the bomb.

Maybe he can. I don't know.

I don't know.
Can't even take care...

Something is coming.

(laughs) Something is coming!

Something evil on the horizon.

Something is coming.

Something
is coming!

Something is coming!

Something is coming for you.

(muttering)

(traffic passing by outside)

How are you feeling?

I could get you some Tylenol,

or, uh, something stronger--

a lude or some pot from the guy
on the corner at Bleecker.

He knows you're a cop.

You're looking at me like I was
the guy that did this to you.

When I went down to the
police station to file a report,

they acted like
I had made the whole thing up.

I showed them my wounds
and bruises.

They didn't even bother
to take photos.

- Who'd you talk to?
- Some guy named Mulcahey.

Okay, Mulcahey's a caveman.

I will find someone for you,
I swear.

Don't bother. You know what
that psycho told me

right before he let me go?
He said,

"You can try
to tell the police about me,

but they won't do anything.

They don't want to."

A fucking psychopathic killer

knows more about the cops
than you do.

- Not fair, Gino.
- Oh, really?

- No.
- Okay, so talk. What are you doing?

You know what happened,
you know the facts.

Tell me, how's
the investigation going?

- These things takes time.
- I gave you

a perfect description
of this guy,

and we know he must have
been in the service.

You can't fucking
do anything with that?

What about The Brownstone?

Anybody bother
to go over there? Maybe--

I don't know,
I'm just spit balling here--

question the fucking staff?

When are you gonna
tell them you're gay?

Oh, you think that'll help?

- Huh?
- It's just...

It's not good
for a man to live a lie,

especially one this big.

I just left my wife, Gino.

Okay.

All right, fine.

But we're not gonna
just sit here on our asses

waiting for a cavalry
that's not gonna come.

Fine. All right.
Where are we going?

- So, we know
this guy is a sadist, right? - Mm-hmm.

So, how many bars could he feel
comfortable hunting in?

Well, he could be
at any number of them.

- We already know
he was at The Brownstone. - Right.

But he also knows what the
bandanas mean so it must mean

- he frequents leather bars, too.
- Right.

Right.
So pick one.

Let's go.

What's the matter?

Those places not your scene?

You know they're not.

- Well...

-(groans)
- Tonight, they are.

(laughs)

(keys jingling)

("You're Not Gonna Get It"
by Epicycle playing)

MAN: Hello?

Excuse me.

Everything I own ♪

♪ I hear you're gonna
get it... ♪

I didn't order this.

From a new friend,
end of the bar.

You're not gonna get it... ♪

Must have got cold feet.

♪ You're not gonna get it
from me... ♪

I'll just have a beer, please.

From me ♪

You say that he loves you ♪

He gave you everything ♪

You say that he loves you ♪

You were just his fling ♪

♪ Well, you're not
gonna get it. ♪

-(door closes)
-(music muffles)

(indistinct chatter)

(phone ringing)

Hello?

MAN:
Hi. Who is this?

It's the maître d'.
Would you like a reservation?

I have 9:00 p.m. available, but
we require men wear a blazer.

(chuckles)
You're funny.

You want
to have some fun with me?

Is this a joke?

No. It's an invitation
to a party.

Just you and me.

How do you know
what kind of fun I like?

I know the bar you're at.

Why don't you come meet me here?

No. Come to me.

I have everything we need
to have the time of our lives.

Okay. Where?

17 Great Jones. Apartment 11.

It's the one in the basement.

The door will be open.

All right.

I'm Stewart, by the way.

Stu.

See you soon, Stu.

-(click)
-(dial tone)

MAN:
* No more milk from Mama

Mama has run dry ♪

No more milk from Mama ♪

Mama said goodbye ♪

Daddy's milk is crazy ♪

Daddy's milk is weird ♪

Daddy's milk is hazy ♪

- Daddy's milk is feared ♪
- This is great, babe.

♪ Get the milk
from sister Clarence ♪

Get the milk for free ♪

♪ Get the milk
from sister Gretl ♪

Get the milk from me ♪

Daddy's milk is yucky ♪

Daddy's milk is ick ♪

Daddy's milk is mucky ♪

Daddy's milk is sick ♪

♪ No more milk from Mama,
Mama has run dry... ♪

Wild, right?

It's not a party, it's art.

We just walked into art, man.

Drinking up dry milk ♪

♪ I'm the little baby
shitting in my silk ♪

♪ Wah-wah, wah-wah,
wah-wah, wah-wah ♪

Shitting in my silk ♪

Again. ♪

(cheering, applause)

What's with the cats?

Madams y motherfuckers,
courtesans and cocksuckers,

tops... and bottoms,

-(whooping)
- sinners and serpents,

welcome to the end of time.

(cheering, applause)

First, a pubic
service announcement.

Be kind to all my feline

family and friends
you see wandering.

Every single one of them
has spent eight of their lives,

and their last one
belongs to me.

I've rescued them all
from the concentration camps

we call the ASPCA

and the piers and abandoned
buildings of New Sodom.

They all have mange and fleas,
but then again,

ooh, so do most of you.

(laughter, whooping)

Now for the cultural portion
of our evening.

(whooping, cheering, applause)

Before I read my poem, I want
my artists up here with me.

Morris, what are you
doing down there

with the hangers-on
of the court?

Join Hans and Daniel and me.

(cheering, applause)

(cheering, applause)

Fuck the badges!

Fuck the norms.

Death is our dinner companion.

Who else wants to eat with us?

(cheering, whooping)

Listen to the oracles.

Listen to the outlaws.

They tell us...

something is coming.

Something evil on the horizon.

Something is coming for you.

(cheering, applause)

Sorry.

(whooping, chatter
continuing in distance)

You all right?

How many guys do you collect
in a week?

What the fuck kind of a question
is that? I don't know.

Why even have a boyfriend?

That's-that's just sex.
That's just, um...

just a combination
of biology and ego, you know?

It has nothing to do with...
with love.

And you love your boyfriend?

- Sometimes.
- Don't you think we can do better?

Find another way
to connect that doesn't...

just leave you with

nothing but the clap
in your throat?

Maybe.

What do you have in mind?

(chuckles)
Tonight?

We could just...

get a drink and food and...

talk.

- ♪
-(indistinct chatter)

All right.
Let's go to work.

Pick your pleasure.

- Somewhere over the rainbow.
- What if I just wanted

to blow my nose on something?

So you go to the bathroom
and grab some toilet paper.

Hmm?

We should split up.

- Alana, hey.
- Gino.

Well, now I know why
I've been so depressed.

Haven't seen you in weeks. It's
horrible what happened to you.

I'll be okay. This is Patrick.

- Hello.
- Nice to meet you.

So, what are you working on now?

Who's hiding
in that dark closet you like

- to throw light into?
- GINO: I'm actually

writing about
the murders right now.

Can't get them out of my head.
They're terrible.

Makes me sick to my stomach.

Oh, but if you're here
about that,

- I suggest you turn around
and go somewhere else. - Why?

'Cause I can't have this place
associated with any of that.

My bosses don't pay taxes

and they settle their problems
in Jersey,

if you know what I mean.

Well, I'm just here
to look around,

- take the temperature.
- Well, the temperature

is rising, fast.

I'll leave The Ditch out of it,
I promise.

- I don't know.
- I promise.

(sighs)

Okay.

But I'm gonna hold you
to that promise.

You won't like Jersey,

especially not from the inside
of an oil drum.

Nice to meet you.

Likewise.

Can I get two?

♪ Walk the night,
hey, gonna walk the night ♪

Hey, walk the night... ♪

Hey, handsome.

What would you
rather be tonight--

guard or a prisoner?

Neither.

Mm. Undecided.

I'm putting you down
as an inmate,

and I'm taking you down
to solitary.

Yeah, I'm just here
to get out of the rain.

It's not raining, asshole.

What you looking at me
like that for, huh? What?

Barney Fife there? Not our guy.

This is not my kind of place.

It must really suck.

- Suck?
- Living life in denial.

You ever get confused

where the bullshit stops
and reality begins?

What the hell
are you talking about, Gino?

You've been here before.

(Patrick chuckles)

You've been to a lot
of these places before.

The fuck's this?

- BARTENDER:
Some guy sent it over. - Who?

I don't see him anymore.

What is this?

Strange-ass drink
for this place.

- Barb came to see me.
- Hmm?

She brought me a box of yours
that she found.

There was enough leather
in there

to open a fucking shoe store.

Why would she do that? Why would
she come to you with that?

She thinks you're so good
at lying that it's impossible

to know when
you're telling the truth.

MAN:
How was it?

No, no, no, don't turn around,
not yet. No.

Drink is not half bad.

I never had one before.
What do you call it?

A mai tai.
It was invented by Trader Vic,

and it was so popular
in the '40s

there was a shortage of rum.

I can believe it.

I usually have a bad reaction
to rum, but not to this.

(gurgling)

GINO:
Why are you pretending?

- What are you hiding?
-(screaming)

- Somebody call an ambulance.
- Move. Move, move!

- Did anybody see what happened?
- BARTENDER: No. One minute,

- he was sitting at the bar,
and the next... - All right, all right,

all right.
Just tell your boss to seal off

all the exits.
Nobody comes in or out. Go. Now.

Move. Go! Move!

♪ Walk the night,
hey, gonna walk the night. ♪

Brunilda, my kitty. ♪

-(meowing)
- Okay, sweetie.

There's a big bowl of warm milk

and crème de cacao
for you at my place, okay?

I think she's more
of a hard whiskey kind of gal.

-(laughs)
- Why'd you have to bring her home with you anyway?

Oh, I have a thing
for lost souls.

Well, there's about a thousand
lost souls right there,

counting the fleas.

(chuckles)

It's probably all over me,
too, right now.

I'll pick up a couple
of flea collars on the way

and a muzzle for you.

Sue me for telling it
like it is.

Well, sue me for wanting someone

- who'll be there
every time I get home. -(low growling)

-(yowls)
- What is your problem?

Probably just smelled a dog
or something.

You would know.

HANNAH:
The patient, comma, Mr. Whitely, comma,

claims he noticed the lesion
on his foot a week ago.

Period. Paragraph.

I removed a small scraping
for analysis,

but I believe it's another case
of Kaposi's sarcoma. Period.

Before this year, Kaposi's were
mostly found in Italian men

in their 70s, comma,
but suddenly, I'm seeing them...

(phone ringing)

Hello?

FRAN:
Is this Dr. Hannah Wells?

HANNAH:
Yes. Who am I speaking with?

FRAN:
I know what's happening to your patients, Dr. Wells.

And I know what's happening
to the deer on Fire Island.

HANNAH:
Tell me who this is.

FRAN:
Meet me at the equestrian statue in Central Park.

(chains rattle in distance)

Hey, hey, hey.
Take it easy.

I thought I saw someone.

He... he was right over there.

(sighs) Are you the person
that called me?

Yes. I'm Fran.

Tell me what the hell
this is about.

This is about a group
of people in this city,

vulnerable people.

They're under attack.

Under attack? By whom?

The U.S. government.

(elevator bell dings)

♪

(door squeaks)

-(door opens)
-(chains rattling)

STEWART:
Get me the fuck out of here.

Keep screaming like that,

you're gonna fuck up
that perfect little throat.

Hey, hey, hey.

If I told you once,
I've told you a dozen times.

It only hurts if you fight it.

Where the hell were you?

How could you just
leave me like this?

Answer to question number one:

none of your fucking business.

Answer to question number two:

how else did you want me
to leave you?

- You're a sick fuck.
- I didn't do anything

to you
you didn't absolutely love,

and we both know that.

- Well, I'm done.
- Oh.

You're done
when I say you're done.

(laughing)

No, no.

Stewie, baby,
you're just getting started.

-(chains jangling)
- Let me out of here.

Help!

Somebody help me!

Somebody!

Please.
I didn't want this.

I'm not enjoying it.

You did answer a pay phone
on the street

in front of a leather club,
did you not?

So you knew exactly what
you were getting into, right?

And you loved
every single second of it,

didn't you, you little freak?

You're fucking hot
when you're scared.

Let's have some fun.

(siren wailing in distance)

(grunts softly)

- I can't sleep.
- Neither can I.

Yeah, why not-- all the noise?

(chuckles): Noise?

Nobody who grew up in the city
hears noise.

No.

It's the silence.

It's everywhere.

Oh, Jesus, Patrick.

Another killing.

Few feet away from us.

Cops show up, do nothing.

A miniature paper umbrella
on the floor

doesn't really
give us much to go on.

Plus, there was no drugs
in his drink,

unlike what happened
to you, so...

Thank you
for saying it out loud.

We still haven't
really talked about it.

Just more silence.

As if it never happened.

That terrifies me.

'Cause you know
what all this quiet means?

Secrets.

You're the quietest one of all.

(phone ringing)

PATRICK:
Yeah.

Okay, I'll be right there.

They found something.

♪ ♪

(indistinct chatter)

MAZARA:
All right, that makes sense. Thank you.

Hey, Chief, what's going on?

Hey. So, uh,
you might have been right.

Looks like your faggot killer
left us something new.

Where's the body?

Actually, we didn't
get a main course.

We got an assortment.

(camera shutter clicking)

Holy shit.

Looks like each one
is from a different victim.

Captioned by
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