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PENNY DREADFUL
CITY OF ANGELS

There will come a time
when the world is ready for me,

when nation will battle nation,
when race will devour race,

when brother will kill brother,
until not a soul is left.

Are you ready?

And on that day, a leader will arise
and set all the kingdoms to war

and all the races
one against the other,

a day when the dark powers
are coming into alignment

and the world is ready to burn.

And all it will take

is one final spark.

Any other music?

- I like this one.
- You always like the sad ones.

- That boy. You leave him be.
- But why trouble yourself with him?

With any of them?

What are they but frightened animals
in the mud, scratching for more mud,

fully unworthy
of your devotion and care?

- I'll prove it to you, just wait.
- How will you do that?

By letting them be who they are.
By making all their dreams come true.

By whispering to them.

All mankind needs to be the monster
he truly is is being told he can.

Will you try to stop me?

I have no heart for the living.

For anything. Now open your arms,
sister. I'll give you many souls today.

Papa!

Papa! No! No!

Papa!

- Mama, you shouldn't have.
- Stop. You'll like my cake.

- Let Tiago. This isn't your night.
- Tiago, cut the cake. I'm starving.

- Because you never eat.
- He eats all the time. He's a pig.

- Then why am I so goddamn hungry?
- Muchacho, language.

- Ready?
- Yes.

Bravo!

- Tiago, show us already. I'm dying.
- It's just a piece of cheap tin.

Stop it.

What? You can get them
at Walsh for a nickel, right?

Show us.

I'm so proud of you.

Ma!

It's yours as much as mine.
Thank you, Mama.

You don't know how proud I am
this night, for our family.

Hey... the boy in blue.

That it? Come on.

Detective Santiago Vega.

- I guess, congratulations.
- I guess, thanks for coming.

Hell, you'll be a gringo
before you know it.

Raul, be proud for your brother.

I'm not gonna pretend
to be proud of my brother...

You want him in the cannery or working
the fields? Your brother made a life.

Respect that.

Okay. Sorry, Tiago. Okay?
It's been a long day.

Let's have a drink. Yeah?

Everyone, I wanna make a toast.
Get a glass.

So everyone lift your glass to, sorry,
mom, Detective Tiago fucking Vega.

Detective Tiago fucking Vega!

- You're nervous about starting work.
- I got a good partner.

It's hard there?

I'm used to it.
But a Chicano patrolman is one thing.

A detective...
no one very much likes it.

- You earned your badge.
- That's not how they see it.

You are the first Chicano detective
in the Los Angeles Police Department.

You wear that badge proudly,
and you help the next man up.

He helps the next one.
That's what we do.

Monday? Monday morning
those machines start up?

How they look at me.
Like they got teeth.

Can't stop progress, I guess.

Raul sure tried.
They got an injunction now.

He's going
to the city council tomorrow.

Might as well plow the ocean.

Maybe.

This night, your badge...

tu papá would be proud.

I mean it, Tiago.
He sees you tonight.

I gotta get my bus.

Yeah? Yes?

Rise and shine.
We got some butchery down the river.

I'll be there in 15 minutes,
give or take.

- What, today?
- Yeah. I don't understand it either.

I don't start until Monday.

Guess what, slick.
You start in 15 minutes.

Why us?

Like I know?
But Vanderhoff called me himself.

- Not the watch commander?
- Vanderhoff himself.

- Jesus.
- Fuck, right.

LOS ANGELES
1938

- Detective Michener.
- So what gets us up so goddamn early?

- And on our day off, no less.
- Better just see.

Let's see him.

Steady, partner. Take a breath.

I guess I should say,
Welcome to Homicide, Detective Vega.

Chest wounds look like a knife
or an ax maybe.

Fucking faces... that's makeup.

This some Hollywood Max Factor bullshit.

Sir, there's one thing more.

You take our heart, we take yours.

I guess we know why they called us.
This is some spic thing.

They took the hearts.

Pal, our day off is officially fucked.

As wild and lawless a town
as was ever found in the Old West.

If we join the club, we get a badge.

- The Green Hornet gave us a ring.
- Why do you want a badge?

- Dad, everyone wants a badge.
- I don't understand all the snow.

How can there be a blizzard
every episode?

- Morning, Maria.
- Sir.

There's a blizzard
because it's the Yukon.

Are we having huevos rancheros?

- Sí, Tom.
- Muchas gracias, Señora Vega.

What do you know about blizzards?
You've never even seen snow.

Neither have you. Can we go see snow in
the Yukon? We should go to the Yukon!

- Ma'am.
- Did you bring the laundry?

Yes, ma'am.

What is that noise?

Sergeant Preston of the Yukon.
We're going there.

We are not.

- Yes, we are.
- Boys, please.

Peter, you're going to be late.
You know how traffic is on Fridays.

- Wait till they open the new road.
- Then I'll just fly.

You have to drive really fast on it.

It's going to have three lanes
and bridges and tunnels.

Behave yourselves, boys.
Don't play the wireless too loud.

Radio.

Radio. Have a good day, my dear.
Be smart in school, Trevor. I love you.

Love you too.

And you, young Tom,
we'll find the Yukon on the map

and then we'll look at it together.
How 'bout that? I love you.

Bye, Dad.

Maria, a word.

Mrs. Craft needs to rest today, yeah.

And she should not perhaps
take any alcohol.

- You might let me know.
- Yes, sir.

- How are your children?
- Good, sir.

- Any sicknesses, you come to me?
- Thank you, sir.

While the children slept,
we played bridge.

While the children slept,
we played bwidge.

As we played bridge,
the children slept.

As we played bridge,
the children slept.

Try bluing on that.

It won't work, but you'll feel
a real sense of accomplishment.

Then throw the fucking
thing away.

Hey, Pancho,
got any more of that hair oil?

Got a date with this señorita
down Belvedere way,

wanna look me all pachuco.

Hey, Pancho, you hear me?

- That's Detective Pancho.
- Fuck you, Michener.

- No, fuck you, Riley.
- Hey, leave it.

You crack wise one more fucking time,

my tongue might just slip about
that little girl of yours in Sonoratown.

Go on, one more time.

It was a fucking joke, Lewis.
Jesus, you two.

- You don't need to do that.
- Fuck, I don't.

- I can speak for myself.
- Then do so.

Come in.

Maid called in a missing persons this
morning: two adults and two juveniles.

We brought her by the morgue,
and she identified your bodies.

James Haslet and family.

From Beverly Hills.
633 North Canon Drive.

- Fuck.
- No kidding.

So we got four rich white victims
in the fucking L.A. River.

This gets out,
we're looking at a damn race war.

You don't know how much I wish
those bodies were Mexican. No offense.

None taken. But we don't know
it was Mexicans that killed them.

I saw the pictures, Detective.
I know what Spanish writing looks like.

Maybe it's pachucos.

What do a bunch of JDs
want with Beverly Hills?

We'll check the house, sir.
Thanks.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Nice and deep. That's it.
Okay, yeah. One more time for me.

Deep breath now, Frank.

You see how it is with him,
how he suffers?

I've seen this before, Mrs. Brenson.
This is no cause for panic, you see.

I don't want a shot.

You're not going to get a shot,
young man.

But if you're a very good boy,
let me talk to your mother here,

my nurse outside
will give you a lollipop

and maybe even
a Lone Ranger book to color in.

How does that sound?

- May I?
- Yeah, of course. I'll be right out.

- And what do you say to Dr. Craft?
- Thank you, sir.

He's a good boy, Mrs. Brenson.

Most often asthma is brought
on by simple allergies we can treat.

It breaks my heart.

And my husband,
he does not understand Frank.

He has no patience, you see.

Anxiety is often a trigger
for respiratory distress.

Is Frank subject
to any special tensions?

Where are you from?

- Essen.
- I am Berlin. I was Berlin.

Now I'm Boyle Heights
with the Jews.

It is hard for us there,
for me and Frank.

It is difficult in this place for us.

My husband, he is American.
He's like all Americans here.

What is that?

He listens to the wrestling
on the radio.

He drinks his beer. He is curious
about nothing. He knows nothing.

My husband says
I have to be American.

My husband...

Does he hurt you?

Does he hurt the boy?

You poor girl.

You are a kind man.
If only we had met in Essen.

We'll meet again in a week.
Anyway, I...

I wanna start a series
of allergy tests on Frank.

So, next Friday, ja?

Ja, good. Thank you, Dr. Craft.
I think I've soiled your handkerchief.

Keep it, please.

A gift from Essen to Berlin.

Ja, good. Next Friday, then.

Do you want me to bring you something
for lunch, Doctor?

No, I'm going out.
Thank you, Laura.

You will be ejected!
You will be ejected. I will have order.

Sergeant at arms, eject those people.
No more pictures! Get them out!

You can't bar the press, Charlton.
It's a public hearing.

I can do whatever the hell I want.
Eject them!

We will have no more outbursts
or intemperate language.

The transportation committee
has voted in favor

of construction of
the Arroyo Seco motorway.

The city council has approved
the recommendation.

The municipal court
has overturned the injunction.

So, construction will continue
Monday morning as planned.

If any member of the public
would like to speak

in opposition to the council's actions,

they may do so in modest
and economical terms.

I am Raul Vega.

And I speak on behalf of the Belvedere
Heights Community Action Group,

the Congress
of Industrial Organizations,

and the Cannery Workers Union,
Local 417.

I know who you are, Mr. Vega.
Keep your remarks short.

Short as one question,
Mr. Townsend.

- Where are we supposed to go?
- Where are you supposed to go?

When your new motorway destroys our
homes, our community, our church,

and our livelihood,
where are we supposed to go?

Where you came from
is not a bad answer.

I was born in Los Angeles County
Hospital, Mr. Townsend,

as I believe were you.

Don't you dare bandy words with me.

You would build a motorway that cuts
through the heart of Belvedere Heights,

through the house where my mother lives
through her kitchen,

through the shops
and the cannery that are our jobs,

all so that you could drive to Pasadena
with no stop signs.

What, sir, would you say if I was to put
a motorway through your kitchen?

I would say, "You can't stand
in the way of progress."

When progress becomes barbarity,
it ceases to be in the public interest.

We are the public, sir,
no matter the color of our skin.

We will not be moved.

- Then you will be pushed.
- Then the blood will be on your hands.

Don't threaten me
with your goddamn...

This our home! We will fight for it,
as good Americans have always done.

And yeah, hermanos.
Show them our will!

Officers, clear the chamber!
Eject them!

We will have no Bolshevik
agitation here! Eject them!

- And that's how you conduct a meeting.
- You showed 'em, sir.

Damn right.
You can't be weak with these Latins.

Their culture's all about machismo. You
show them the whip, they back down.

As if a bunch of taco stands and donkeys

can stand in the way of the city
of Los Angeles.

Exactly right, sir.

But a little less of that.

Taco stands and donkeys. You don't
need that language to get what you want.

You're going to win,

so you don't give those bastards
in the press any easy ammunition.

You did magnificently today.
You were a strong man.

Mussolini.

Hitler, even.

Now there's a fellow who understands
the judicious exercise of power.

That's right. Now you just have to stay
the course and keep quiet.

You held the public hearing
as your civic duty required.

You've won.

We'll get this first motorway
under construction

and then start working on another one.

Keep your transportation committee front
and center, keep you in the papers.

Another motorway?

- Maybe through Bunker Hill.
- That's the colored's...

No, sir, what that is,
is too much valuable real estate

filled with junkies and jig-whores.

Not when there's a motorway
to be built.

- Motorway going where?
- Does it matter?

Also, I've scheduled a meeting for this
afternoon, something rather special.

- What would I do without you?
- What indeed, sir.

- Can I ask you something?
- Shoot.

Why'd you take me as your partner?

- Seriously?
- Yeah.

Cause no one else wanted you.

Now can I ask you a question?

- How come you never wear a hat?
- I want everybody to know I'm Chicano.

Lewis, I know what it was,
the painting on the faces.

It's Day of the Dead makeup,
honoring Santa Muerte.

Which is what the fuck, exactly?

Folk religion
from the peasants in Mexico.

Santa Muerte's the angel of holy death.

She's the one
who brings dead people to heaven.

She's the one who does that.

They built this whole religion
around her,

her and the other holy angels
and devils.

- So it's Mexicans for sure.
- We don't know that.

True, there wasn't an actual mariachi
band at the crime scene.

Let me talk to my mother about it.
She knows all about Santa Muerte.

- Why's that?
- She thinks she's a witch.

- Shut the fuck up.
- It's a strange ol' world.

Hello, fellow Americans.
Hello, fellow Angelinos.

We are the German American Bund.

I promise not to ruin your lunch hour.
I'm on mine too.

My name is Peter Craft.
And I live not too far from here.

I have two boys.
Tom and Trevor, they are called,

and I will do anything
to keep them safe.

So if there's a fight down the street,
I keep my boys out of it.

Why should their noses get bloodied
in someone else's fight?

What is it to do with us?

This country has a duty
to keep its children safe too.

And yet I hear so much talk
about America going down the street

and getting involved
in someone else's fight.

Surely, Europe is Europe
and America is America.

Why should we throw our children

into the quarrels of nations so many
miles distant and so very alien to us?

What has it to do with America?

Look around you, my friends.
The sun is shining,

you drink a milk carton or a soda pop,
you eat a frankfurter,

which you can thank my people
for inventing, by the way. Ja.

With mustard. And sauerkraut
over there. Even... I see you.

So let's enjoy our life here
and leave the Old World to itself.

I say America first.

America always.
Peace above all.

Come on, let's go.

How does a family
from this neighbourhood

end up dead in the L.A. River?

One motorcycle, that's it?

We keep things discreet here
in Beverly Hills.

So they're true believers, I take it.

It is our sacred duty to spread
the good word far and wide.

All across this land,
I see unhappiness and strife

and thousands
of aching hearts crying out

for the embrace
of their loving Father.

This, brothers and sisters,
is why I've...

These fucking cultists now.

I'll take upstairs.

Look for blood.
Don't forget the drains.

- No bloodletting upstairs.
- Or here, no forced entry.

Haslet was an elder in the church

or whatever lunatic thing they call
the big pooh-bahs there.

He was building the Arroyo Seco,
his company.

You take our heart, we take yours.

Councilman Townsend,
I am Richard Goss

of the building-architecture firm,
Goss and Ossenberg.

- How do you do?
- Mr. Goss.

Thanks for meeting here. Our dear Alex
thought discretion was advisable.

And why's that?

A gift from the Fuehrer.

My firm is doing some work
on the Reich Chancellery,

making everything more monumental.

We've also done much work
on the autobahn,

the motorways of Germany, this is,
for many years now.

I get it. You wanna start building
motorways here.

Only we can't hire foreign companies
'cause of national security concerns.

This is of no matter.

Really, sir, what we want is to make you
the mayor of Los Angeles.

You are a man we believe
with whom we can work.

I'm one member of the city council.
That's all. Mayor is a long way off.

Not that far,

especially if we keep the transportation
committee in the public eye,

get you on the radio more.

- Allow us to help.
- And in return?

More motorways for us to build,
some government contracts skirting,

perhaps some of the military's
more onerous regulations.

What we want is a sympathetic ear,
no more.

For which you'll pay.

Indecently. You see, we believe
this place is the future of America.

What is New York but a filthy remnant
of Old World beliefs

filled with rat peddlers?

But Los Angeles... this is a place
where a man can live under the sun

and spread his arms,
where there's breathing room.

The Fuehrer looks here and dreams.

Do you know what I did yesterday
under specific orders from Berlin?

I measured streets,

selecting that one which is most
appropriate for a victory parade,

wide enough for our Panzer tanks.
It's Wilshire Boulevard, by the way.

- You got big plans.
- They're more than plans.

This is happening, sir, as we speak,
all over the city.

We have agents
in the aircraft factories,

in the ports,
in the film studios.

You sure you should be telling me this?
What if I go to the FBI?

You see my driver there? He's Gestapo.
Do you know what that is?

If he doesn't see this conversation end
with a handshake,

I've instructed him to take his gun
and shoot you through the head.

And we'll have to find
another candidate for mayor, alas.

- I won't betray my country.
- Of course you will.

Now I must be going.

It has truly been my pleasure, Mr.
Townsend. Or shall I say, Your Honor?

The pleasure was mine, sir.

Heil Hitler.

- What the fuck Mateo!
- Mateo, stop! Leave him alone.

Get the fuck out!
Stop it! Don't! Stop it!

She's in high school, you pervert,
shithead! I'll never see you again!

Mateo, he wasn't doing anything.
You're not my father!

- Hey! Josefina, no more. Inside now!
- Fucking bastard was feeling her up.

No more!
No more words like that.

You were raised for better
than fighting in the street.

Yeah, like sweeping up
for three dollars a week?

You'll do more.

Like the cannery
or maybe cleaning out toilets?

This is it. There is no more.

If I thought that,
we'd still be living in the barrio.

You'll make your way up, mijo.

This is America.

You keep dreaming your dreams,
Mama,

and maybe Santa Muerte
will make them come true one day.

But for the rest of us...
Who wants a spic?

Look at you, all grown up.

Mama, you got a minute?

Walk with me.

So you heard anything
from Santa Muerte lately?

You don't believe.
Why are you asking?

Someone in the Arroyo community.

Something I should know about, maybe
some of violence, some kind of curse.

Santa Muerte doesn't curse.
She's a holy angel.

She guide us peacefully to heaven.

She didn't guide my father
so peacefully.

You were too young.
You don't remember.

He died burning in agony, Mom.
What don't I remember?

What did you want, Santiago?

There's been some trouble, very bad,
and it looks like Mexicans.

I just want you to keep your eyes open

and let me know if there's any special
Santa Muerte rituals going on,

black masses,
anything with Arroyos.

From this religion
you don't believe in.

That's right.

From this holy angel who touched
your shoulder and marked you?

Please.

When are you going to believe the truth
that is written on your own skin?

Not tonight.

So you'll help me out? Listen
for anything to do with Santa Muerte.

I'll do what I can.
But you have to think about something.

This angel that you don't believe in,
you might need her one day.

What do you do then?

Come on. You dance with your mother
now. These old men can't keep up.

And so he grabbed him by the neck,
dragged him out like fucking Tarzan.

Little Mateo?

I swear.
He was like Johnny Weissmuller,

screaming,
"You pervert this, you fuckhead that,

"you don't touch the tit
of my sainted sister."

Hey, Mateo,
you bust that pervert good?

You're so funny. He was feeling her up
with every fat mama in town watching.

Come on, like you never felt up
a girl in high school.

She's our sister.
She's not just some girl.

Jesus.
Mama burned my ass, though.

- You working Monday?
- Monday? No.

The Angels are playing.
I can get you tickets.

Maybe you take Josefina,
buy her something nice.

Stop it, Tiago.

- He shouldn't be there.
- You shouldn't be there.

- It's my job.
- It's your job to tear down our house?

- They're not tearing down our house.
- Not yet.

Monday morning,
those bulldozers start up.

This is it, Raul.
I'm sorry, but this is it.

You know where they are,
those machines?

At the empty lot across
from the laundry,

where we used to play Tom Mix.

They're calling in men from precincts
all over the goddamn city.

- We'll be ready.
- Keep Mateo out of it.

- I can make up my own mind.
- Shut the fuck up!

If we let them push us out here,
where does it end?

When we're back in Mexico?

That's done. No one's talking
about deporting anyone, Raul.

- But this is how it starts!
- Come on.

You know what?
You're so goddamned concerned, Tiago,

maybe you oughta go
to the Angels game

instead of fucking
your people one more time.

You go against the cops,
they'll shoot you down like animals.

That's what you are to them.

And what are you?

Where's your heart, Tiago?

Fay Thomas is pitching Monday.
You oughta think about it.

What a pleasant surprise.
What the fuck are you doing here?

- I'm not coming tomorrow.
- Say again.

I'm not coming.

It's our precinct.
You heard the captain.

- We all gotta be there.
- I can't.

So let me establish this
to my understanding.

It's your second day on the job,
and you're not gonna be there?

Playing a quick nine
at the Wilshire Country Club, are you?

I don't expect you to understand.

We got four bodies in the morgue,

we got a race riot all scheduled for
tomorrow, and you're taking the day off?

Listen, pal, in this life,
you're a cowboy or you're an Indian.

You better fucking choose.

Holy angel, mother of death,
hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death,
hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death,
hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death,
hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death,
hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death,
hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death,
hear my plea.

Holy angel, mother of death,
hear my plea.

Why do you wake me?

I need your help. There is evil
walking now. I can feel it.

If you're dying,
I will come to you.

But if your leg is in a trap,
you must chew it off yourself.

I will see you
in your final moment.

Please help me.
Please, please help me.

Help me, please. Help.

There is a prophecy.

A time will come
when nation will battle nation,

when race will devour race,
when brother will kill brother.

until not a soul is left.

- And is that time now?
- Who can say?

You can.

But there are
so many corpses to gather.

Everywhere I look,
and every step I take,

I wade through that agony.

I have no heart to care for man.

No. Please, no. The time you speak of
is now, and it's here, right here.

- We have to do something!
- Don't ask me.

- You slept too long!
- Enough.

There is a great battle coming,
and it's here!

And we need you here,
and we need you now!

Will you sleep as your
bitch of a sister conquers Heaven?

Mama?

Will you be there tomorrow?
When that construction starts.

No, I decided...

You have to.
Santa Muerte spoke to me.

- Jesus.
- She chose you!

You'll lie to yourself but not to me.
This is who you are.

Tomorrow, you have to stop it,
whatever it takes.

Or?

It all ends in blood or in fire.

You saw her.
You know it happened.

Santa Muerte chose you.

You couldn't save your father.
Maybe you can save yourself.

Well, good morning, sunshine.
Couldn't get a tee time at Wilshire?

I'm sorry about all that.

Forget it, partner.
I'm glad you're here.

You will disperse.
This is an illegal action.

We will have no disobedience.

If you do not disperse,
you will be arrested.

You will disperse.

You know how many times
I've fired my weapon in the job?

Never.

Whatever you're about to do, don't.

- I used to play on this street.
- You don't anymore.

What's this now?

You all know me.

I grew up there.
That's my house. You know that.

So listen to me.
You need to go home now.

No matter you think, no matter
what you hope, you can't stop this!

Shame!

Raul!

Raul!

Raul, no!