American Horror Story s11e02 Episode Script

1
- 550, you're live.
- 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?
- No, not at all.
- Oh, I'm sorry.
Nine rows, 28 centimeters. That's good.
No. Not yet.
Mm.
Oh. That must be really hot, still.
I don't know why
I sterilize the needles.
It's an old habit.
I'm going to lift your arms
until the shoulder joints dislocate.
You will feel it.
The Vietcong perfected that.
Stop moving.
I don't want any fluids on this carpet.
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
Thank you for your service.
Hey.
Hey, you okay in there?
Hey.
Help.
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.
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.
I'm just joking.
I'm in for a little scratcheroo.
Damn cat bit me, little hellion.
If she weren't so cute,
I'd ask you if you wanted
- to adopt her.
- Mr. 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.
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.
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! -
- GINO: They hate us. The police
- hate us. This city hates us.
- Fuck you!
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
demanding answers, or would they
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.
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 a 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".
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.
Mmm.
Jesus. Go.
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.
You better call that reporter back
and tell him you were wrong about us.
Fuck you.
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?
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.
If you wanted monogamy,
you should have been born straight.
Oh.
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.
Something is coming!
Something evil on the horizon.
Something is coming.
Something is coming!
Something is coming!
Something is coming for you.
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
Tonight, they are.
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. ♪
Hello?
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.
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.
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. ♪
What's with the cats?
Madams y motherfuckers,
courtesans and cocksuckers,
tops and bottoms,
sinners and serpents,
welcome to the end of time.
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.
Now for the cultural portion
of our evening.
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.
Fuck the badges!
Fuck the norms.
Death is our dinner companion.
Who else wants to eat with us?
Listen to the oracles.
Listen to the outlaws.
They tell us
something is coming.
Something evil on the horizon.
Something is coming for you.
Sorry.
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?
Tonight?
We could just
get a drink and food and
talk.
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?
- 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.
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.
You've been to a lot
of these places before.
The fuck's this?
- 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.
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.
Why are you pretending?
What are you hiding?
- Somebody call an ambulance.
- Move. Move, move!
- Did anybody see what happened?
- 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. ♪
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.
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.
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.
What is your problem?
Probably just smelled a dog
or something.
You would know.
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
Hello?
Is this Dr. Hannah Wells?
Yes. Who am I speaking with?
I know what's happening
to your patients, Dr. Wells.
And I know what's happening
to the deer on Fire Island.
Tell me who this is.
Meet me at the equestrian
statue in Central Park.
Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy.
I thought I saw someone.
He he was right over there.
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.
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.
No, no.
Stewie, baby, you're
just getting started.
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.
- I can't sleep.
- Neither can I.
Yeah, why not all the noise?
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.
Yeah.
Okay, I'll be right there.
They found something.
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.
Holy shit.
Looks like each one
is from a different victim.