All language subtitles for 11 The.Nevers.S01E01.Pilot.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb_track3_eng

Good morning, Mrs. True.

Mrs. True.

Miss Adair.

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

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

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

Will you do something
about this man, please?

Read it in "The Star"!

Maladie kills fifth victim!

Murder spree soon to
eclipse The Ripper!

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

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

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

Not like with the innkeeper.

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

When they have shotguns.

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

Something to do with her voice.

Good day, Mr. Haplisch.

Yes.

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

This is my colleague,
Penance Adair.

The reverend told you
we were coming?

Oh, yeah. About Myrtle.

Um, come... in.

Missus!

Please, come through
to the, um, parlor.

They're saying Myrtle
might be...

Touched?

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

They're... not right.

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

But isn't that killer...

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

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

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

Touched by Red Boot Teddy!

We're, um, of a mind,

there's a Satanic element.

She's Lucifer's vessel, is what.

He speaks through her.

Up!

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

'Cause old Satan
is squattin' on it.

Spewing out his foulness,

-making a chamber pot
of our Myrtle's mouth.

Well, that's a bit descriptive.

Oh, uh, new kettle.

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

Is Myrtle here at home, then?

-Why is she chained?
-Infection.

W-w-we got the others.

Out. Get out.
Get out, I say.

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

Now this.

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

May I sit?

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

There's plenty of girls
who've been shown

a strangeness of some kind.
A "turn."

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

Would you like that?

Speak, Myrtle.

You mean, "Speak, Satan"?

-See?

Myrtle, you can
understand me, yes?

Chinese?!

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

And I want to say... Turkish?

-Huh.
I'd guess every known
language is crowding her mind.

How would a girl like Myrtle
learn Chinese?

She's never even seen
a Chinaman.

Well, at least we can rule out

-any sort of Satanic influence.

-Those acrobats.
What?

No! They just tumbled about.

They come to Barney Park
doing flips and balancing.

They had an unnatural air.

I said it then.
And there was a monkey!

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

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

-for the chance to give Myrtle
the kind of care...

Keep them down here.

Right.

Gentlemen.

Might we be civil?

-You bitch!

-Penance!

-Shiner!

Aah!

Get the carriage!

Da! The lady did a wrestle!

-Aah!

Come on. Let's go!

Now! Myrtle, run!

-True!

Did you see that face?

-I think I preferred when
people just had shotguns.

-Oh, no. No, I didn't.

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

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

This is weird for us, too.

Heads down!

Out of the way!

One side!

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

If that suits ya.

We can, we can deal
with those fellas.

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

are. How are we gonna
deal with those fellas?

True?

We're going to the opera.

See? We already got a plan.

It's just a woman.

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

Yes, murder.

Very distressing.

This "Maladie" is a lunatic.

Scotland Yard has their
Special Detail to catch her.

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

She is not killing whores,
your grace.

These are respectable men.

Psychoanalysts.

Well, the Prime Minister
intends to take

a public position
on the Touched.

We need to decide what it is.

A few women pulling
parlor tricks--

It's not just women.

And it's not a few.

There are hundreds,
at least,

of unique,
inexplicable afflictions.

Lavinia Bidlow has made
a cause of them.

Which is why the PM
needs to take a--

Women are being attacked,

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

Fairy stories.

These are biological anomalies,

-caused by electricity.

Uh, Lord Massen?

A girl started in
my engine works last month

wiping down the plating press.

She slipped.
Got her arm caught
in the press.

And then she pulled it back out.

Three tons of pressure,

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

-People cheered.
Well, I say enlist her.

Point her at the bloody Boers.

A machine breaks.
Again, gentlemen,

this isn't a troop deployment,

-or a, a market crash.

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

Nor will he allow any official
debate on the subject.

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

-Attack?
-You're declaring the Touched

a direct threat
against the empire.

-Which we here
are sworn to protect.

Contra hostes omnes.

And this attack is expected
to come...

It came three years ago.

Third of August, 1896.

A Monday. Rather gray.

Not one case of someone
being Touched before then.

Not one outside London.

Those reported overseas
were all here at the time.

And not one man
of stature afflicted.

That's the genius of it.

They came at us
through our women.

"They"?

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

with the Mongol horde.

Only a blind man measures
the length of a blade

by how much is in his belly.

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

so that we would see
the parts...

and not the whole.

Philanthropists like Lavinia Bidlow

see the suffering
of the afflicted.

The common throng see
a macabre murderess.

And you see a broken machine.

That is exactly what I see.

The greatest machine.

The heart of our empire
brought to a shuddering halt

by the caprice
and ambitions of those

for whom ambition
was never meant.

This is the Age of Power.

-New power.
-The X-ray.

-The wireless.
-Electricity.

We are the first generation
accustomed to the impossible.

What women are
appalled by today,

they will accept tomorrow,

and demand the day after that.

And the immigrant.
And the deviant.

-That is the power
being wielded,

and not by us.

The blade is in, gentlemen.

We need to know whose hand
is on the hilt.

Nobody gets through.

Put your back into it, Jones,

-you lazy--
Yes, sir.

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

Not in front of the officer.
Show some respect.

Detective Mundi.

You're the Special Detail, yeah?

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

Mind your head.

Was a digger stumbled on her.

Near had a kiss, they did.

Here. You see the stab wounds?

These mates brung
the torches in.

They spotted this on the wall.

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

It's a message.

Not from Maladie.

But how can you be sure?

She can spell.

Did he recognize the victim?
The digger?

No.

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

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

Mmm. This woman was neither.

Where does this lead?

It was meant to be
the maintenance tunnel

for the southern line,
but it got scrapped.

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

The city'll fall in on itself.

I don't envy you this job.

-Yeah.
-Who moved the body?

Must have been--
Wait. What?

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

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

No. It's not-- Oi.

You're tossing about
a lot of assumptions.

Clearly I meant to.

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

-No--
-We check every man in here

for blood on his hands
or his clothes.

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

And what's a murder to that, eh?

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

People think every Touched
they meet might be her.

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

Make your skin crawl.
But here's you,

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

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

East End Ape.
Always fists first.

He could beat a confession
out of a headstone.

You can play the righteous man,

but even you answer to someone.

Yes, I do.
She's right there.

Now, that woman faced
an horrible end.

And I don't think
you killed her,

but I'm not letting you
bury her.

What about the Special Detail?

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

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

Because she left a message.

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

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

I'm the fucking
"Angle" of Death.

Leave the doors!

Mrs. True's back
with a new one.

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

What, the auto-carriage?

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

Mother says motorcars
are common.

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

I wouldn't expect you
to understand,

but Mother says
they're a blight.

Yeah? She say that lately?

On a visit, maybe,
that we all missed.

-As though you know anything
about being a mother.
Primrose!

-She didn't mean that.
-Does she think she's
too big for a spanking?

Coming through!

All right.
All right, come on.

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

No?

That's fuckin' amazing.

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

-No, I don't.

-How was your journey?
-Eventful.

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

Let her know about the attack.

Attack? What attack?

Lucy. Pen. Paper.

I'll set up in your rooms.

-Shop talk first.
-Not first.

This is just a scratch.

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

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

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

Oh!

I'm Miss Chattoway.

But you may call me Primrose.

I hope we'll be friends.

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

Myrtle has a language situation,

and I imagine
she could use a cup of tea.

Oh. Um, do you want--

She does speak English.

But not with her mouth.

All right. Come with me.

We should be married in this.

How is this new?

People been attacking us
since they known we was Touched.

-Or since always.
This is different.

This whole day.

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

Why would they want this...

Myrtle?

I don't think she's the first.

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

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

Lord.

We need to bolster our security.

All entrances, windows
bolted or blocked.

I could rig up
a few surprises, as well.

Nothing lethal,
but very discouraging.

Everyone signs in and out.
Time and destination.

No one goes out alone
or after dark.

-Not even visitors.
-One time.

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

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

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

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

if you can look a man
in the eye,

you can stab him in it.

Smart woman.

But also, don't do that.

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

We pay him for protection,

and he's been feeding us
potential candidates.

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

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

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

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

I am, in fact, not asking.

All right.

Better tend to that scratch,

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

Augustus Bidlow
to see you, sir.

Augie, sorry
I kept you waiting.

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

They're unhappy.

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

The crows.

-They shouldn't be
massing here.
Crows...

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

You know I hate that term.

So unfair,
"a murder of crows."

Crows are actually lovely.
They're intelligent creatures.

Why is it an
"exaltation of larks"?

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

Yes, Augie, your radical stance
on avian nomenclature

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

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

-So...

what has you so ruffled?

I assume your sister
is angry about something.

No.

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

And that's not why she's--

Fu--

She-- This.

You know Lavinia's
charity endeavor?

The Touched.

Yes. The, uh...

-The Orphanage.
-Orphans. Right.

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

They're wonderful.

They're absurd.

Do you even know
what the term means?

"Touched"? Yes!
No.

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

uh, weird, um,
deformities and afflictions.

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

-Really?
Yeah.

Just an inch or so
off the ground.

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

Musgrove is apoplectic.

I'm not supposed to tell.

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

And it's all rather
controversial,

-and--
-And...

she, she, she
just now got word

from the widow
who runs the affair.

Some Touched girl
was attacked.

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

"It's time society accepted

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

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

You know, they're in
The Orphanage."

And she called me a genius.

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

I, I never know what she...

She's bringing them
to the opera.

Tonight!
In our box.

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

I'm to make the fourth.

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

It's, um...

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

I think, and her companion.

Do you think
they might be hideous?

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

It creates an unexpected
balance.

I don't know how to flirt.

God, these people
make me uneasy.

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

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

You have to come.

Oh! To the opera?

Well, you know everything
about flirting.

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

It's how we're friends.

-But it's "Faust"!

Please?

I'll do anything. I mean...

People are already
saying unkind things

about Lavinia's passion
on the subject.

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

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

about The Ferryman's
next Midnight Carouse.

The Ferryman's? I don't--

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

with your pagan sex club?

Whatever he has to do
to get the pictures I have

-from the last one.

That's how the club works.

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

one shining night
where no law yet exists.

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

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

with everyone I know and hate,

just because
Lavinia's gone weird.

She's not weird.

I'm an ape.

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

I know.

I will come tonight.

If...

No. Me?

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

Sex club is just...

That's just flirting
on a much scarier level.

You don't have to flirt.

You just have to relax.

Endure someone
flirting with you.

These are my terms.

Oh, he's a pokey one.

As far as society
is concerned,

Augustus Bidlow
is above reproach,

and beneath contempt.

-He's perfect.
-For what?

You don't have to
wear that anymore.

Oh. Right.
You are the maid.

I like watching you work.

It's like you're conducting.

Well, get in wrong
with the Beggar King,

and you'll get a symphony.

You shouldn't be in that life.

Gift like yours,
you should be
the Royal physician,

not patching up gangsters
and freaks.

Gift like mine gets me branded
a voodoo witch doctor.

I gave up being choosy.

Nothing about me
not being a freak?

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

Oh, right.

I'm going to the opera tonight.

I had a rippling.

"...to accompany me
and my brother Augustus

"to the opening performance
of 'Faust.'

Lavinia Bidlow."

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

and she says,
"Come out to play."

She even sent an outfit.

And what about the part
where you rest?

It's the theater,
not hard labor.

And I--

think I need to be there.

Trouble?

Hmm.

Katherine will have
supper ready soon.

Does Lavinia really think
I can fit into this?

It's a good dress for you.

It'll keep pressure
on the wound.

-Mrs. True.
-Miss Adair.

You look very fine.

I think so, too.

It's like something
from a storybook.

I'm not confident
in my curtsying.

I'm not confident
in my breathing.

Oh, I wasn't planning
to breathe.

I think it's considered rude.

-Does it hurt?
-Itches.

Aah, that's much worse.

Are you sure
we need to go to this?

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

We need to go to this.

Wish I knew why.

-Aah...

Give us the room.

That's Odium.
Pardon the stench.

You cannot get that man
into a bath.

Declan Orrun.

The Beggar King.

Or, no...

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

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

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

Every rum on the street
hearing you calling me

come like a bitch puppy?

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

Only once?

They came for Myrtle Haplisch
same time we did.

Probably been after
the Touched for some time,

but now they've been seen.

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

anyone known to be
connected with us.

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

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

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

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

that I don't kill you.

It would be better
if you didn't.

You're a rare fuckin' bird.

You sold us the information
about Myrtle.

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

Well, wonder away, princess.

My business is mine.

Apart from the sanctity
of my harmonious marriage,

fuck-all is exclusive.

My girls need protection,
and I need information.

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

Skip the posture
and name your price.

You ain't got that kind of swag.

We're resourceful.

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

Wait, are you considering that?

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

An automated motor-carriage,
designed to your specifications.

And you will be paid,
if you help us.

You're mad enough
to make this worth it.

But you're mad enough
to try not to.

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

This isn't my face.

I thought you was gonna
scare them.

Spread out your fingers.

Wait.
-Hold up your hand,

and spread out your
fuckin' fingers.

Hugo, get off!

I have to go!

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

right before the prison scene.

Hugo? You listening?

Yes. The prison scene.

-Yes.

Don't you agree,
Miss Bidlow?

Must we fight a war
over words?

I'm exhausted by these
overwrought alarums

about the Frenchification
of our language.

It's the end of the century.

These ancient prejudices
have no use.

Dr. Beldon,

you adopt new terms
as they become relevant

to your practice
of psychoanalysis,
I imagine.

Practically every week of late.

Language requires not stasis,
but specificity.

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

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

Augustus.

-Sorry?
-We were discussing
it earlier.

The specificity
of modern language.

Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.

-It's very nice.

If it's,
uh, French terminology
we're discussing,

there are a few terms

we Britons simply
don't have a word for.

Oh, excuse me.

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

What on Earth
is Swann doing here?

I...

No, I know.

S-so impulsive...

Lord Massen.
You're well, I hope.

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

We were discussing the panic
a few old men are having

about certain French terms.

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

"Employees."

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

It is not panicking
to abhor something.

Neither is it useful
to replace

a perfectly good
Anglo-Saxon word

with some foreigner's flourish.

In England,
we say "the employed."

What possible benefit
in replacing it with
"employees"?

The singular.

One may refer to
a single employee,

whereas "the employed"

can only be used to describe
a mass of people.

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

may be a whole
and meaningful being.

Mrs. Amalia True.
Miss Adair.

May I introduce Lord Massen?

-Mrs. True runs The Orphanage.
-Indeed.

Which one's the ugly one?

I take it then that
you are yourselves

among the afflicted?

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

Perhaps some women
are more fortunate

in the nature
of their ailment
than others.

That's true, but,

more suffer from
society's perception

than their own debilitation.

Well, so what's wrong with you?

I, I think he means me.

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

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

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

That seems... normal.

Miss Bidlow runs The Orphanage.

We're just the employed.

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

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

A "turn" is a trick.
It's not a trick.

Penance is an inventor.
A creator, really.

Oh. There's only
one Creator.

No, uh, I can see energy.

Potential energy.
Like with electricity.

I can see where
it wants to go, or,

move, or settle.

It helps me put things together.

And yours?

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

Mmm. A prognosticator.

Nothing so grand.

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

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

Ha!

-You see the future?
-Snippets.

It's as confusing
as it is useful.

You were a soldier.

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

Well, sometimes I go forward.

I never said I was a soldier.

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

Assessing every threat.

Lord Massen is
the last line of defense

-against the scourge
of modernity.

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

to fight against the tide,
but, uh,

chaos is not change.

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

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

As I understand it,

a harmony is made up
of different voices

sounding different notes.

Yes. And one is always
above the other.

Ladies.

I killed the devil.

It's Maladie!

It is Maladie!

Man
What does she want?

Is no one going to say
"thank you"?

It's okay. It's okay.

It's okay.

-It's okay, petal.
It's not your fault.

It's the doctor.

Oh! Oh, there's so many people.

Did you all come in hats?

Now all of your brains
are naked. No?

You shall have a wreath

of eels

with the tail in your mouth.

Please!

Please.

Don't... go.

Devil's speciality is eels.

-Which is known by you
as a serpent.

Oh, but it's only Adam.

It's all the same
when it slithers.

Eve had a cunt.

Why am I here?

I came to kill an angel witch.

Oops.

But the closer I came,

the more I felt

I was here for a r--

Because I... saw God.

He was all light.

And He put on me His wreath.
He came.

He came to us all,

and you all turned
your backs on Him.

You lied.
You said He never.

But He makes hum.

Oh, He sings.

I could never make it out,

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

And I feel it.

I feel it.

Him. Here.

Who... Who...

Ah, bugger it.
Take the angel.

Oh, nothing?

Anyone?
Tell me what you want!

Either I am here for a reason,

or for a bonfire.

-Oh, no! She fell!

-Aah!

Mice. Tiny mice.

How is that still hard?

Go.
Damn it.

Come on, don't stop.

La!

Just let me have the girl.

No.

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

-Aah!

Boss...

Huh?

Oh.

Hugo Swann.

Lord Swann.

-But I'll overlook
the breach this once.

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

On the contrary.

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

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

makes one appreciate
the act of living.

He did seem to appreciate it.

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

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

But don't leave the theater,
please.

Oh, I could never
leave the theater...

So I don't suppose
you made any effort

-to stop Maladie.

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

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

Amalia True.

Guest of Lavinia Bidlow.
Runs The Orphanage.

Maladie kidnapped a girl.
Mrs. True gave chase.

Champion of the unfortunate,

and she knocks
dangerous men about.

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

What we're up to.

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

I don't profit by what we do.

Well, neither do I.

Yet.

Once you've sent enough
suitable girls my way,

and a certain investor
is invested,

The Ferryman's Club
will become

not just a profitable business,

but a phenomenon.

I might even forget a few debts.

Take the fucking champagne,
Frank.

You'll want it.

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

And so do you.

One little polyglot.

One tiny Touched girl.

That's all you had to bring me.

I like that word. "Touched."

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

Woke us up.

Every subject gets me closer
to finding exactly

where it is He touched us.

Oh!

Not today, though.

Mmm. No. Today...

let's just see where it hurts.

Man
Stop him, George!

He's got it in
his jacket pocket!

We didn't want it anyway!

Fucking tart!

Oi.
Is that maniac
a friend of yours?

Amalia?

Mrs. True?

Miss Adair.

You look very fine.

Got into a fight.

It's been a day for that.

I didn't win.

Maladie has the girl.

Mary. Brighton, they said.

She won't kill her.

Not right away. We have time.

We...
have some time.

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

-They started it.
-Mmm.

Not...

-No, I started it.
-I know.

I know. Trouble
makes you troublesome.

But nothing sets you off
like good fortune.

Mary's song.

Reachin' right into me.

Tellin' me that...

that I'm here.

I belong here.

And you.

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

We're woven into
the fabric of the world,

and we're meant to be
as we are.

We find Mary.
We get her singin'.

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

They won't be safe.

Less lonely, then.

And that's a start.

It's a start.

Are you Amalia True?

Have you got information?

You're Mary Brighton.

Is Mary touched like you?

I see things that aren't there,

I drink when I shouldn't...

and I've had more
experience with violence

than I would've liked.

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

How are you not wonderful?

There's been a massacre.

Maladie's defiance
is at a fever pitch.

Are you afraid?

The Touched are the future.

Particularly, our future.

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

The Touched are not here
to be slaughtered for show.

And if we have the power
to stop it,

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

They are not special.

They are not a community.

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

it needs to see chaos.

♪ ("LONDON CALLING"
BY THE CLASH PLAYS) ♪

♪ London calling
To the faraway town ♪

♪ Now war is declared... ♪

Amalia True?

I do not believe
she has any interest

in giving the Touched
a safe haven.

Blood.

That ain't her whole story.

I do have a mission.

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

♪ (MUSIC SWELLS,
STOPS SUDDENLY) ♪

You said you had a mission!

Well God gave me a mission, too.

♪ And I
Live by the river ♪

It's time to tell them.

Everything.