All language subtitles for Marvel s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. - 1x06 - F.Z.Z.T..720p.WEB-DL.ECI.en

Justin: Thing is, no one exactly knows

what happened to the
crying man that summer.

Some say that he drowned in the lake,

but others say that
they've seen his ghost,

wandering these woods, in
search for his lost sister.

Actually, they say if you're
quiet and listen real hard...

you can still hear him crying.

Mr. Cross, that was, like,
the worst crying man ever.

Really?
I thought it was pretty good.

You guys think we're kidding.

Just remember to stick close
to the campfire tonight, okay?

Hey, guys. Do you hear that?

- Hear what?
- That humming sound.

Stay here. I'm gonna take
a look around the campground.

- What humming?
- W-where's Mr. Cross going?

He's just trying to scare us.

So lame.

Come on, guys. Grab a s'more.

Well, that's for you.

- Ooh, I want the marsh...
- Ooh, marshmallows!

Now, I know ... Tommy, I know
you like chocolates. Here.

Don't hog the marshmallows, okay?

Mm-hmm.

Everyone to the truck now!

Go, go! Go!

Mr. Cross?

Mr. Cross!

Come on, guys.
Let's go look for him.

- Boy: Whoa.
- Is he nuts?

Stay close.

Mr. Cross, are you okay?

- Mr. Cross!
- We should just go back.

Working up a good sweat there, sir?

I don't sweat. I glisten.

Blood pressure, heart rate,
biochems ... all normal.

All that's left is the blood sample.

You should know ...
I'm not a fan of getting poked.

Tell me, sir ...

have you been feeling
under the weather lately?

- Why?
- I just noticed from your chart

that you're not due
for a general physical

for another three months.

I made a mistake ... took a
call from my physical therapist.

Asked how I was feeling.
I said, "a little rusty."

Next thing you know, I'm
wired to this hamster wheel.

Well, you can officially
tell your physical therapist

that you're fit as
the proverbial fiddle,

- especially for a man of your age.
- A man of my age?

That's something
you say to an old person.

Is it?

Well, let's get you some
electrolytes, shall we?

Huh.

Sorry, Fitz.
It's close, but it's just not right.

Really?
'Cause agent Coulson had no problems.

- It's an ounce too heavy.
- An ounce? Seriously?

It's the difference
between success and failure.

When you're on a rooftop
with a 15-mile-an-hour wind,

- your target is 500 yards away ...
- Yeah, but we do have a rifle.

- Lose the ounce.
- Yeah, okay. On it.

"Lose the ounce."

I'm Agent Grant Ward,

and I can shoot the legs
off a flea from 500 yards,

as long as it's not windy.

Hey. That's a sound I
haven't heard in a bit.

Yeah, well, you wouldn't
be laughing a whole lot

if you were living in Ward's doghouse.

You made the rounds,
apologized to us all.

What more can he ask?

- I don't know.
- Mm.

I have been busting my ass,

memorizing every
S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol manual,

following every order.

"Yes, sir."
"No, sir."

I even let them tag me like a stray dog.

I mean, I know I lied to you guys,

but I was trying to
protect my boyfriend.

You know, we all make mistakes.

And who ca... I don't care ...
who cares about your ex-boyfriend?

It's not like I'm
comparing Ward to Miles,

but at least with Miles,
I didn't have to worry about

- passive-aggressive stuff.
- That's not it...

- There was no mind games.
- Mm.

We spoke the same
language, you know?

- Yeah. Yeah, a bit like we do.
- Totally.

You and Simmons are so tight,
it's like you're psychically linked.

No, you ... no. Actually, no.
I don't think so.

So, Ward was here? Let me guess...
the night-night pistol again?

Yeah. Oh, yeah, and he
said it was off by an ounce.

Of course he did.

I'm Agent Grant Ward,

and I could rupture your spleen
with my left pinky ... blindfolded!

That is dead on.

Hey.
Hustle up and grab your gear.

We're on a mission.

Something funny?

Poor, silly Fitz.

He mistakenly left
a dummy round in the pistol.

Should be proper now.

Great.
Thanks.

Troop leader's
name was Adam Cross.

Apparently, he said he
heard something in the woods,

went to check it out.

That's where the
electrostatic anomaly occurred.

What I don't understand is, usually,

they're caused by a
massive electrical storm...

But there wasn't a storm
within a thousand miles

- of here last night.
- This anomaly's different ...

it has a side effect
we've never seen before.

The battery blew straight
up through the hood.

Landed over here.

Hell of a force to create
that kind of trajectory.

Huh.

What are you doing?

I'm shadowing my supervising officer.

Shadowing, not smothering.

There's scorch marks all over that tree.

Lucky the whole forest didn't burn down.

I don't get it. Seems to
me like this electroshock

thingy was some freak lightning strike.

I mean, why call us?
What's the big ...

Oh.

Never mind.

So sad a man died this way...
and yet, so amazing.

Fitz-Simmons, any idea what
could cause an effect like this?

- There's the soliton hypothesis.
- Well, okay, judging by the horizontal...

- Perhaps, nanobatteries ...
- ...electrical discharge, it could be ...

Time. Let's try that again.

Any idea what could
cause an effect like this?

- The hell if I know.
- Uh, no, no clue.

Seems to me like
we're either dealing

with some freak natural event
or a new high-tech weapon.

Or could it be someone
from your uber-secret index?

There's no one on the index
with this type of power.

That we know of.

I'll contact agent
Blake at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ,

have him check it out.
Whoever or whatever's responsible,

- we can't let this happen again.
- Fitz, see his forehead?

Look at that endothelial discoloration.

Yeah, same dispersal pattern
as the strike on the truck.

Could be an entry wound
cauterized immediately.

Freaky.

Freaaaky.

You found something on Cross?

Many things, actually,
but you already knew that,

thanks to my fancy
S.H.I.E.L.D. house-arrest gizmo

tracking my every key swipe,

my online activity, my cholesterol.

Just wish it came in
another color... or came off.

- The victim?
- Adam Cross ... single, no kids,

originally from Wrigley, Pennsylvania,

not far from here.

Been there.
They have a nice little

strawberry festival in the spring.
Occupation?

Phys-ed teacher at
the local high school

and Varsity baseball coach

and troop leader and
volunteer firefighter.

This guy makes Captain America
look like "the dude."

"The Big Lebowski."
Seriously?

What about a criminal
record, restraining order,

something that might give us a suspect?

Nada ...
not even a parking ticket.

I skimmed all his posts,
anyone linked to his pages,

hoping for a crazy ex
or superpowered stalker,

and he's clean.

Everybody looks clean
on their first go-round.

Ward's right.

We're missing something.
Dig deeper.

- You've been pretty tough on her.
- She lied to us ...

contacted the Rising Tide
while we were on mission.

If she wants our trust
back, she's got to earn it.

The background she ran
on Cross is a good start.

Put it up on the server.
I want may to have a look

when she's done with her interrogation.

Have a cookie.

Excellent timing, sir.
I've been analyzing sagittal

and coronal images
of the victim's brain.

What's Fitz doing out there?

He detected a strange
energy coming off the body.

He's afraid of it, isn't he?

- It's the smell!
- There's no shame in it, Fitz.

It's perfectly natural to be afraid.

No, the only thing I'm afraid of
is putrid, decaying flesh

corrupting my pristine
workspace.

Do you remember the last time
you brought a dead thing into the lab?

Oh, not the stupid cat again.

- The cat ...
- And it's our lab, Fitz.

- ...tell him about the cat!
- Not your lab.

You left his liver next to my lunch!

- Guys! Can we please...
- Yes, sir.

Um, as I was saying,
this is the victim's brain.

Looks like a burnt baked potato.

That's what happens when it's hit

with close to 2,000 megajoules
of electrostatic energy.

That's almost double the
power of a lightning bolt.

Kid's clean.

You figure out why
the body was floating?

Not yet.
The molecular density of the victim

was temporarily altered by
an unknown energy source.

I'm hoping to shed some
light on its effects

once I extract a brain-tissue sample.

- It's happening again!
- It's science, Fitz!

I have to dissect something.

No, the satellite's picking up

another electrostatic event
not 20 kilometers from here.

Fitz, what's the latest reading?

We're at 324 megajoules
and growing stronger ...

dangerous territory, sir.

There's a farmhouse a
mile North of you, right

at the center of the
signal. That's got to be it.

Skye, dig up everything you can
on whoever lives at that farm.

We need to know who we're dealing with.

Hold on, now.

What just happened?
Um, it's gone.

- What's gone?
- The electrostatic signal ...

it seemed to pulse, then disappear.

We need a shortcut.

- Door's barred from the inside.
- Hayloft's open.

We could ram it with the truck.

Or...

Scan the perimeter.

Whoever did this
couldn't have gotten far.

Barricaded himself inside.
Went for his shotgun.

He was scared, trying
to protect himself.

From who?
How did they get to him?

Another burn mark on the forehead.

No sign of anyone ...

no tracks, no vehicles down the road.

Skye, we need real-time
SAT surveillance

on this area right now.

Hang on.

I think I found something
you might want to see first.

Sending it over now.

The guy who owns the
farm's name is Frank Whalen.

He's a volunteer firefighter
at the same station house

as our first victim, Adam Cross.

Our two victims knew each other.

They were both responders when
the aliens crashed New York.

Two victims from the same firehouse
found in the same weird way.

We're looking for a killer.

Gotcha!

Hey, um, anyone else notice
all the metal scattered

around the body, like an
electromagnetic field was present?

The question is, what created it?

We need to get this body back
to the lab as soon as possible.

Something about these wounds...

Skye, what did you
find out about the firehouse?

It turns out they sent
an engine to New York

with a dozen volunteers
after the Chitauri invasion,

including Cross and Whalen.

Maybe it has something to do
with why they were targeted?

Or how they were killed.

- You mean like... an alien weapon?
- We don't know that.

Let's just make sure we
get to those firefighters

before anyone else does.

Evening, gentlemen.

Agent Phil Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D.

we were on the ground
with you in New York.

S.H.I.E.L.D., right.
What's this all about?

We'd like to ask you a few
questions, take a look around.

Hey, guys. What's, uh...
what's going on?

What are you looking for?

- A scented candle.
- Not you.

This wound ... something
doesn't quite make sense.

Initially, I thought
these were entry wounds,

as if from a gunshot.

But they're not ... they're exit wounds.

What do you mean?
Frankie's dead?

- I'm very sorry.
- You know how it happened?

The same way your other friend,
Mr. Cross, died the day before.

Which was how, exactly?

- I'm sorry. Your name is...?
- Tony. Tony Diaz.

- You okay, Mr. Diaz?
- Actually, uh...

I'm actually not feeling so hot.

Ward, cover the back door.
Nobody comes in or out.

What if this weapon overloaded the brain

past the threshold of
its electrical capacity,

causing it to discharge, like an E.M.P.?

You're assuming we're dealing
with an external source.

I'm saying it was something
from inside him.

Something's happening ...

the satellite's picking
up another reading.

It's coming from the firehouse.

That humming noise ...
you hear that?

No. I don't.

Were you in New York with
Mr. Cross and Mr. Whalen

after the Chitauri invasion?

Come on.
You don't hear that?

- It's driving me nuts.
- Mr. Diaz, are you with me?

- Whatever you're doing, make it stop.
- I-I'm not doing anything!

- Where's the weapon?
- The what?

Coulson, I found it.
It's a Chitauri helmet.

Fitz-Simmons, are you seeing this?

It's not a weapon,
yet it caused a cranial discharge.

What are you doing with the helmet?

What, the ... the alien thing?
I-it's a souvenir.

- Aah! Not again!
- Answer the question, Mr. Diaz ...

what are you doing with the helmet?

The first time anyone's
touched it since New York

- was a couple nights ago.
- Why?

It had rust all over it.
We were cleaning it.

That wasn't rust.
May, don't touch it!

Sir, he's not using a
weapon ... he's infected.

I think the helmet was the
source of an alien virus.

All we did was clean it ...
I swear.

Me, Frankie, and Adam ... we ...

we were bored on the third shift, so ...
so we decided to clean it.

Adam and Frankie...

Mr. Diaz, I'm putting
the gun away now, okay?

Sir, he's at 600
megajoules and climbing.

Sir?

Clear everybody out.

Clear everybody out... now!

I-I'm gonna wind up
like them, aren't I?

Why don't you have a seat?

You have any family ... wife, kids?

Is there anyone you want to talk to?
Anything I can do?

Sir, you have to
get out of there right now!

He's going to ...

Listen to me.

I've been where you are right now.

So please believe me when I tell you
you don't have to be afraid.

What are you ... what
are you talking about?

Your job ...

gets pretty dangerous, doesn't it?

Mine, too.

I got hurt once ... pretty bad.

And I... I died.

Some say it was only for 8 seconds,
but I know it was more than that.

I know I wasn't here anymore.

I was there.

What's it like?

It's beautiful.

You better get going, buddy.

Go.

All clean ... no traces
of electrostatic energy.

What about the other firefighters?

They'll be quarantined and observed
at a S.H.I.E.L.D. biohazard facility.

Um, anyone else notice

they're putting the infected
alien thing on our truck?

- We're flying it to the Sandbox.
- Sandbox?

It's a S.H.I.E.L.D. research
facility across the Atlantic.

They specialize in hazardous materials.

If what you suspect is
true, that this is a virus,

then those firefighters
could be infected,

and they're gonna need a cure.

- Find one.
- Yes, sir.

- What's our E.T.A.?
- 3:37 West Africa time.

Gonna be a long 4 hours and 26 minutes.

You okay?

Fine. I just want this
alien thing off our plane

as soon as humanly possible.

- You want to talk about your physical?
- Nothing to tell.

My physical therapist requested it.
He's updating his files or something.

You'd tell me if something was wrong.

Of course.

Simmons: Sir, I think
I've discovered something.

Could you come down to the lab?

- I'll be right there.
- Phil.

The fireman ...
you did everything you could for him.

So, what am I looking for exactly?

Wait for it.

- What was that?
- A groundbreaking discovery!

I believe the firefighters
initially contracted the virus

when they cleaned the helmet,
the friction activating

some long-decaying
Chitauri organism ...

Hang on. These cells are from
the bodies of the firefighters?

Brain cells, yes ... the last
vestiges of the infection.

Some viruses "sleep" inside host cells
for years before reproducing,

as they did inside the
helmet ... the initial source.

But what those cells tell us
is that we're dealing

with a propagating
virus, which means ...

The virus can move
from person to person.

Exactly!

And that's the most exciting part ...
how it spreads ...

not through the air or
through direct fluid transfer,

but through electric static shock.

It's like nothing
we've ever seen on Earth.

I didn't think it possible
a virus could alter

its host's molecular
density and polarity.

That explains the floating.
I can't wait till

the virologists at the CDC and
S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ see this.

Sir, is something wrong?

I'm so sorry, Jemma.

Oh, no.

Simmons believes
she contracted the virus

approximately 36 hours
ago when she received

an electrostatic shock
from the first victim.

How much time does she have?

Based on when the firemen were infected,

how quickly their symptoms
manifested... two hours at most.

That's enough time, right? I
mean, S.H.I.E.L.D. has dozens

of labs and scientists working
on this thing, don't they?

They do.
How soon can you get us on the ground?

Three hours.

Our path to the Sandbox has us
right in the middle of the Atlantic.

Sir, correct me if I'm wrong,
but if we can't land in time...

Simmons will release a pulse

that will blow this plane
right out of the sky.

We can't just sit
here and watch her die.

- We have to do something.
- There's only one person on this plane

capable of finding a solution for this,

and I'm willing to bet
my life that she will.

She's just a kid.

I believe we have a winner.
Fast and efficient ...

the perfect delivery mechanism.

Uh, hey, um, not that it was easy
to find a mineralized solution

that could suspend the vaccine
and conduct electricity.

I wish you wouldn't
use the word "vaccine."

It's really more of an antiserum.

Okay, so...

these antibodies should be able
to target the virus' antigens,

if this bloody alien virus
even has antigens.

Come on, now.
Come on.

Well... that wasn't very
cooperative of him, now, was it?

Skye: Why aren't you down there?

They don't need an audience.

You can stay...
if you want.

I hate this.
I just feel so ...

- Helpless.
- Yeah.

I wanted it to be a person,
some superpowered psychopath ...

someone I could hurt,
someone I could... punish.

That I could do.

What I can't do is protect you guys

from stuff I can't even see...
or understand.

So, what do we do?

We wait...

- ...and get ready.
- Ready for what?

For whatever it is
we're called upon to do.

Coulson, nice to see you're not dead.

Did you get our analysis of the virus?

We did, and S.H.I.E.L.D. has
no record of anything like it.

No one does.

So it's imperative it reach
the Sandbox without incident.

In case of a pandemic,
we're going to need it.

I'm aware of that,

but I don't need more
orders or ultimatums.

I need answers.

I wish I had some for you.

I'm sorry, Coulson ... I've
been ordered to inform you

that if you have infected
cargo, you need to dump it.

Do you copy me, Coulson?
These orders are coming from up top.

I'm sorry ... bad connection.
Didn't get that last part.

Don't even think it.

I don't have to.
That's your job.

It's all right.
Everything's gonna be fine.

Please stop saying that.
I see you looking at your watch.

Are you sure you don't
need my help just to ...

Are you sure
this thing even works?

Yeah, well, you know it does.

My device isn't the issue...
it's the vaccine.

Antiserum! And all I'm wondering is

whether you calibrated it correctly.

Hey, it's not the device.
Hey, don't put this on me.

I was doing just fine,
tucked away in a safe,

indoor, non-mobile lab at the academy!

- Oh! - Then you had to go and
drag us into this flying circus!

Didn't even pass our field
assessments, for god's sake!

Oh, please, as if I forced
you to follow me anywhere.

You said, and I quote...

"Oh, Fitz,
"it's the most perfect opportunity

"for us to see the world!

We'd be fools to pass
this one up!"

I hate it when you use that voice.
That's not even how I sound.

And you were just afraid
of going into the field.

I was not afraid.

And don't you dare act
like these last months

haven't been the highlight
of your entire pasty life!

Pasty? Oh, really?

Well, when did you
become so sun-kissed?

Because I'm pretty sure
that every minute of every day,

you've been stuck in
a lab right beside me.

At the academy, at
sci-ops, this plane ...

you've been beside me
the whole damn time!

- You have to fix this.
- I don't know how, Fitz.

The antibodies
from the three firefighters

aren't strong enough
to fight this virus.

It's born from alien DNA.

There's no one... to
create an antiserum from

because no one's actually
survived this except...

- the Chitauri.
- The Chitauri.

Well, the minky bastard
who actually wore the helmet

- had the virus...
- Yeah, and managed to survive

without ever emitting an
electrostatic pulse because...

- It was immune.
- Yes!

She ... she was just the
carrier, like Typhoid Mary.

Uh, "she"?
Well, no, wait.

That ... you don't really think
that ... okay, doesn't matter.

Um, so if ... if I can
scrape some epithelial cells

from the inside of the helmet,
we can create a vaccine?

Yes!
Antiserum, but yes.

- Isn't that...
- Fitz!

No, uh...
you can't be in here!

Too late. It's done.

Just try and do your best
to keep your hands off me, yeah?

Fitz, I don't know what you
think you're doing, but ...

I'm doing what we always do.

We're gonna fix this ... together.

Third time's a charm.

May I do the honors?

I can't breathe.

We did it.

No...

Sir, I know the protocol
in these circumstances,

but could you please tell my dad first?

I just think my Mum

would take it better
if it comes from him.

We're not there yet.
There's still time.

Sir, please.

Would you mind if I had
a brief moment alone with Fitz?

Come on. Let's go.

We'll try again.
The electrostatic pulse from

the third rat seemed much less,
so we're making progress.

If we can calibrate the antiserum...

Antiserum, yes.
You finally got it right, Fitz.

I'm so sorry.

Aah!

Agent Blake is on the line.
He wants to know what's going on.

If you won't answer, he asked for Ward.

Sir... what are our orders?

They're unchanged.

What is that?

Someone's lowering the cargo-hold ramp.

Hey. It worked.

The pulse just knocked
the rat uncon... scious.

Jemma?

Jemma!

Jemma, it worked!!

Please, don't! Nooo!
Jemma, nooo!

Jemma!!

Jemma!

Must have to find Jemma...

The antiserum worked, but she jumped!

Ah!

Don't get me wrong!
I'm happy you're both alive ... truly.

And I realize you were
trying to save the team,

but what you did today...
that was not your call.

Just getting you out of the water ...

do you have any idea what a pain it is
dealing with the Moroccan office?

Don't you ever pull
a stunt like that again!

We'd hate to lose you, Jemma.

Thank you, sir.

Oh, does that mean we're to leave now?

So, what did you think of
your first time skydiving?

Honestly, I'd rather not
think about it anymore.

I thought what you did
was incredibly brave.

Oh.

Well, I-I suppose now's
as good a time as any

to tell you that, um...
I may have misled you earlier.

You see, when I gave you
back the night-night pistol,

I lied ... it's still an ounce off.

- I know.
- You do?

Of course. After all...

I'm Agent Grant Ward.

I just jumped out of
a plane without a parachute on

- and saved your life!
- Actually, that's not quite it.

It's a bit more nasally than that.

Oh. Hello, Skye.

Ohh!

How was Simmons?

Amazingly resilient.
You'd never know she almost died.

Experience like that ...
it takes awhile to sink in.

That her medical report?

Mine, actually. Blood
work finally came back.

I'm perfectly normal ...
little heavy on the iron.

But don't worry ...

you don't have to start
calling me "Iron Man."

Wasn't planning on it.

My doctors never requested any tests.

I ordered them for
myself, but you knew that.

This piece... of paper is telling me

that everything's fine, but...

I don't feel fine.

I feel different.

- Take off your shirt.
- Excuse me?

Your shirt...
unbutton it.

Whether it was 8 seconds
or 40, you died.

There's no way you can go
through a trauma like that

and not come out of it changed.

- You know how long it's taken me to ...
- I know.

The point of these things
is to remind us that...

there is no going back ...

there's only moving forward.

You feel different...
because you are different.

- And I was going to do it.
- I know you were.

I had the antiserum,
the chute ... everything.

- I just couldn't get the straps on.
- Fitz, please.

And, you know, maybe
I couldn't have done

- the whole "James Bond
- Fitz, shut up.

- in midair" type of thing.
- Please, just...

Ward did an amazing thing, yes,

but it wasn't Ward by
my side in that lab,

searching for a cure.

It wasn't Ward giving
me hope when I had none.

- It was you.
- Hmm.

- You're the hero.
- Yeah?

Yeah. Thank you.

- Blake.
- Coulson.

That's the best you
could come up with ...

"we've got a bad connection"?

- I was pressed for time.
- It's a bold move.

You know our chat
wasn't exactly private.

- They never are.
- I don't know what happened

to you in New York, if
you really flatlined or if

that's just what they tell
us when we reach level seven,

but whatever did happen
doesn't give you license

to disobey a direct order from HQ.

You keep pulling stunts like
that, someone might decide

to take this little
dream team away from you.

I'd like to see them try.

That doesn't sound like the
Phil Coulson I used to know.

No, I suppose it doesn't.
Get used to it.