American Horror Story (2011–…): Season 11, Episode 1 - Something's Coming - full transcript

Thank you.

- Thank you.
- Sorry.

Oh. Captain Ross.

Hey, Tawny.

Yeah, I was just having a quick
nightcap with the other girls.

They were wondering
where you were.

Oh, you know. Off
to get some ice.

I am just bushed.

Know how you feel.

Since we're both staying in,
maybe we could stay together.

That's, um...

- a very nice offer, Tawny.
- Mm.

I'm extremely flattered,
but I'm also...


You know the funny
thing about these?

They come right off.


Mine doesn't come off.

Excuse me.

Back up!

Hope you haven't
had breakfast yet.


Just did.

Poor guy over there,
fishing with his son

when he spotted the body.

Fishing in the Hudson?
You're shitting me.

Oh, my God. Jesus.

- ID?
- Just this.

The Brownstone.

- It's a fruit stand over on...
- Yeah, I know what it is.

Anything else? I don't
see any visible wounds.

Besides the obvious one.

Neck was severed around
the fourth cervical vertebra,

right through the vocal cords.

Well, at least we know what he
was doing right before he died.

Yeah, Mulcahy?
What was he doing?

Giving head.

The levels
of multiplication

and mutation are more
rapid than anything

- I've ever seen.
- Mm.

And you're sure the samples
were properly handled?

I went out to Fire Island

and collected and
prepared them myself.

And the symptoms
when they're displayed?

Seizures, skin infection,

liver failure.

You have to get out there,

talk to the mayor,
chief of police.

At this level of mutation
and multiplication,

we can have an epidemic
on our hands in months.

What happened to it?

It has a
virus, a new one.

I've been taking samples
from deer carcasses

out on the island
for over a year,

ever since the first buck
died with similar symptoms.

We've definitely been
finding more dead ones as of late.

One of my deputies found three
dead together the other day.

Looked like a family.

Whatever this virus is,
it's highly communicable,

and it could be
mutating too quickly

for the deer's immune
system to fight it.

If these deer here
are isolated on an island,

then how the hell did they
suddenly catch some new disease?

New diseases are born
every day. That's science.

As scary as it may seem,

if we don't start
mitigation efforts soon,

it's going to wipe out
the entire population.

You're going to have to kill
all the deer on this island.

And if we don't,
they're all gonna die?

The deer are simply the
first carriers of the virus.

And the way that it's mutating,
it could leap to humans

if it hasn't already.

Then we're gonna have to arm up

and shoot down every
deer on this island.

- What do you think?
- Hard to tell.

Rats got to the head,
and the body was deformed

- by the water.
- Right.

Those cuts look
pretty similar to me.

Could be, but I couldn't tell
you if they were the same blade.

Well, come on. It's got to be.

You know, if this was the head
and body of a pretty blonde

16-year-old from Riverdale,
you'd have ten detectives

- down here on the case.
- Hold up.

Someone stuffed it down
in there pretty good.

Holy shit.

Was that the cause of death?

Or could somebody have stuffed
that down there post-mortem?

Teeth are intact, which means

he probably didn't struggle
when it was being put in.

Don't the homosexuals use
colored handkerchiefs like this

to let others know
what they're into?

Saw something about
it on Donahue.


Where's Gino Barelli?

We want to lodge a
formal complaint.

What do I look like,
your hairdresser?

Ha! Your paper is here to
serve the gay community,

but you're ignoring half of it.

Listen, if you want
to apply for a job

or submit a freelance article

or an op-ed,
please, be my guest.

Hey, lesbians have issues, too.

Why don't you ever write
about women's health issues?

How the ERA is
completely stalled out?

How we can't get access
to health care...

Yeah. Write about that.

You know, I would really love
to write about those issues,

but I'm a gay man, so
I write about issues

that are important to gay men.

Oh, yeah? What are you writing
about that's so important?

I'm writing about how
gay men are being hunted

and killed in this town.

Wasn't us.

All right, ladies,
it's time to go.

- Wait. This is a... Is this a threat?
- No.

Sounds like you need
something to protect yourself.

Is that you?

Something smells good.

Oh. Beef Bolognese.

How was your day?


Really? I didn't know
our mayor liked boys.

Hall of Shame.

First annual issue.

You should thank me
for not including you.

- Funny.
- Seriously.

Your precinct has more
complaints from the community

than any other
precinct in Manhattan.

It's just a lot of old-school
guys all in one place.

Keep defending them.

You should quit and
do something else.

I don't know how to
do anything else.

That's not exactly true.

What's the matter?
You look tense.

We found another body.

By the piers. He
was missing a head.

What the fuck?

Oh, Jesus, Patrick.

- That's three now.
- Mm-hmm.

Is the department gonna
hold a press conference?

- People need to know about this.
- No.

And I am telling you
this off the record.

I'm not supposed to talk
about this with anyone.

I'm not "anyone."

I'm the guy you supposedly love.

I should be writing about...

Hell, the New York Times
should be writing about it,

- and you should be helping.
- I-I can't.

Gino, we have talked about this.

We have to keep our
professional lives separate.

Oh, really? When
it's life-and-death?

- Those are the rules?
- Just think what you want to think.

But I am not going to jeopardize
my career to be your source.

The fuck good are you?

What the fuck am I doing?

- What am I doing?
- What are you talking about?

What the fuck am
I doing with you?

Here in this sham
of a relationship?

Hey, hey, hey, no.
Don't say that.

It's not a sham, okay?

I did not go through everything

that I've gone
through in my life

to go back into the
closet for a guy

who does not want to
be what he truly is.

Yeah, maybe, but I
am very good in bed.


I am doing the best I can.

Maybe that's just...

That's not enough.

We need you.

I need you.

Not like this.

Where are you going?


- Anywhere where I'm not hiding.
- Mm.

Or helping someone to hide.

Come on, Gino. Let's just...


Mr. Ewing?

- Yeah.
- Mr. Barnes made a very serious accusation.

He claims you pushed Miss
Shepard off that balcony.

That man is a damn liar.

I saw him...

I was watching that.

Mm. Come on. Get
yourself cleaned up.

You're coming out with me.

I don't want to go anywhere.

Fuck off, Sully.

You have been eating breakfast
cereal and watching TV

for six days.

Adam, I could understand one day
'cause of his hot little accent,

but any longer is just you
feeling sorry for yourself.

I was falling in love with him.

Bullshit. You were falling
in love with falling in love.

Get off of me.

I really need you tonight.

I got to do some business,

and I don't want to
go out there alone.

Are those drugs?

What's the hurry
with selling ludes?

The price is skyrocketing,
I really need the money,

and you really need
some fresh air.


Where are we going?
What is this?

Only one of the best
places in the world.

You're not here to sell
those pills, are you?

Okay, so maybe I lied.

Had to get you off
that couch, okay?

- This is dirty.
- I'm doing you a favor.

It's giving me the creeps.

Well, I'm shaking, but it's
not 'cause they're creeps.

Tell me you're not going
anywhere with that guy.

Be cool. Groove with it.

- Hey.
- Hey.

- What am I supposed to do?
- Have fun.



Come on, Sully.

Hey, man, I-I don't
want any trouble.


Adam? Sorry.
That's my roommate.

- Adam?
- Sully?



Great. Just great.


Okay, tell me again.

How was this tall
individual dressed?

He was wearing a-a
hood and all leather,

and, uh, he wasn't just tall.

- He was gigantic.
- Okay.

Okay, but, uh, his dress...

By leather clothes, would
you say he was a leather man?

Part of a gay, uh,
leather subculture?

Like what you might find
at places like, uh, uh,

The Backfill Club?

I don't know. I-I
have... never been.

I haven't been
anywhere like that.

You're gonna tell me you
can't do anything, aren't you?

I knew this was a waste of time.

You don't give a shit about us.

Every day, we're getting
beaten, and we are dying,

- and the police don't give a shit.
- Cut the drama, okay?

If that were true,
I would not have had

to chuck my shoes away
because they were covered

in polluted river water.

So there was a
body by the piers?

And you're looking into it.

Oh, I just bring it out
to make a point, okay?

Some of us actually care.

And the reason I can't
help you today is not

because your
roommate's homosexual.

It's because he's only
been missing 12 hours.

Plus, there is no
evidence of a crime.

What about that scream
in the park? That guy?

You heard a yell, and some
leather guy followed you.

Go home. Wait for
your roommate.

If he doesn't show
up by Thursday,

you come back and see me.

I'll take a full report.

You just sent the
guy away 'cause it's not

a missing persons case.
What are we talking about?

Maybe we should look into it.

The body in the river,
the two others last month?

I'm getting a very
bad feeling in my gut.

Yeah, I get a bad
feeling in my gut

every time I open the newspaper.

I'm worried we're seeing
a pattern here, Chief.

Someone could be targeting
the gay community.

Five people dead

is a Friday night in the
Bronx, it's not a pattern.

Let me tell you something.

The people that make
up that "community"?

They come to the
city for a reason.

They come here to get lost, and
that's exactly what they do.

Sounds like you've
thought about this.

Yeah, it's 20 years' experience talking.


What is it?


But I agree
with the police.

Sully's a slut
and a drug dealer.

He'll show up eventually,
probably in jail.

I'm going to get a steam bath.

Find me when you're
normal again.

Excuse me.

Do you know who that
is in that photo?

No. I know who took it, though.

- Who?
- Theo Graves.

Very talented.

Uh, does he have a studio?

Do you know where I can find it?

He's right over there.

Likes to make a
splash, so to speak.

Um, can I close?

Excuse me.

Hey, I'm sorry. I'm not
here looking for a...

No, no. No, no,
no, no, no, no, no.

I couldn't help but, um,

overhear you talking
about your friend.

You said that he disappeared
into the park last night.

I'm sorry. I...
I don't know you.

The police aren't
going to help you.

- But I will.

Um, I'm Gino Barelli.

I write for The Native.

Here's where you find me.

Hi. I'm here to see Theo.

He asked me to come by.

I'm sure he did. He's
just finishing up

with a session,
but you can go in.

He likes an audience.

Uh, no, thanks.

Makes me shit my pants.


There you go. Beautiful.

Nice. Nice, nice.

All right.

Eyes up, eyes up.

Nice, nice. Hold it, hold it.

Beautiful. Beautiful. Excuse
me, hold it, hold it, hold it.

Hold it. Nice.

All right, eyes here.

All right. You can
collect your money

from Tanya on the way out.


Hi. I'm Adam.

I know. I saw you
at the bathhouse.

I was hoping to talk to you
about some of your photographs.


My grandmother
was a psychic.

You know, they called her
a witch back in Haiti,

'cause she could see things
no one else could see.

And she always said that I
was her favorite in the family

because I'm the one she
passed her powers on to.

See, um...

when I used to photograph a
scrotum wrapped in chains,

other people saw
something grotesque,

but I saw a bouquet, you know?

And you don't photograph
that kind of thing anymore?

Oh, sometimes.

But, uh, truth is,

as soon as other people started
seeing the beauty in it,

I just... wasn't as
interested anymore.

Now I like photographing
flowers and water drops.

Exposing the perverted

in what everyone else
sees as beautiful.

Okay, go stand
against this wall.

I'm not, uh...

I'm not here to be photographed.

If you want to ask me questions,

you have to let me
shoot you while you do.

If not, you can
get the fuck out.

Shirt off.


Tell me something terrible.

I thought I was supposed
to be asking you stuff.

We'll trade off.

My friend Sully is missing.

Missing could be terrible, but
it could also be very boring.

Get on your knees.

Keep going.

I want to know about a
model that you photographed.


Big guy, muscled,
wearing a leather mask.

I saw him in one of the pictures
you took at the bathhouse.



Sounds like Big Daddy, or
that's what we called him.

I don't know his real name, and
I haven't seen him in years.

You can put your
clothes back on.

Would you mind, uh,

calling me...

if you see this Big Daddy again

or hear anything about him?

I think he's hurting people.

Oh. I'll do my
best to avoid him.

Who's that?

Did you get anything
good of him?

Well, I didn't get him

squatting over a
traffic cone, so...

nothing you'll
think is worthwhile.

I am so sick of you acting
like you're the artist,

and I'm some
checkbook with a dick.

My eye for what's now
and what collectors want

pays for all of this, and
your little pad on Spring

and your cocaine habit.

Maybe you should date a
pornographer instead, Sam.

Our clientele can't hang
pornography on their walls

and invite the neighbors
over to look at it,

so if they want a photo of
an asshole in a public space,

they need to have
paid $50,000 for it.

Don't worry, baby.

I'm still photographing
boys and their toys.

Yeah, but your artist's
heart isn't in it, and I see.

And I can convince the
closeted stockbrokers

and the nouveau riche
Hollywood executives

that the new work is as
aesthetically true as the old,

but, eventually, they're gonna
figure out that it isn't.

Something dark is coming.

Can't you feel it out there
when you walk down the street?

You sound like your
grandmother again.

Because I'm right.

Look, for now, I need
to look away from it,

and use my eyes to see
the obvious beauty,

or else the darkness is...

- It's gonna swallow me up.
- Yeah, well,

we're not gonna let
that happen, are we?


I've got a marvelous idea for
a new series of photographs.

I'm in the process
of setting it up.

You... will...

love it.

- Where are you going?
- Out.

Okay, uh...


Smoke the peace pipe?

So, uh...

So, look, I asked Marzara
if I could leak a story

about this possible serial
killer to a reporter,

and he told me if I did
that, I'd end up in a morgue,

and he meant it.

If word got out
that I did anything

to make the NYPD look
bad, I'd be a dead man.

I'm not looking to
break a big story, Pat.

Come on. This is
about people dying.

Now, I am not gonna give
you any more information

on this investigation,

but I would like

to ask you some questions.



What does a blue
handkerchief mean?

Oh, God.

You boys who came
out late are so...

charmingly naïve.

You really never heard
of the handkerchief code?



we're not like the
straights, where, when you go

to a pickup bar, everybody knows
pretty much what you're into.

You stick it in, you move
it around a little bit,

and you hope she's on the pill.


Our tastes are more...


And we're not afraid
to let people know

before our clothes
come off, which is why

they invented the
handkerchief code.

I've seen that. All
those guys walking around

down on Christopher
Street with the bandanas

hanging out their back pockets?


Light blue in your right pocket

means you like to give head.

Left pocket means
you like to get head.

Gray is for bondage.

Black is for S&M.

Yellow is f...


- Dark blue?
- Anal.


Did one of the dead
men have a blue one?

Oh, come on. Gino.

I'm asking the questions.

You ever been to
The Brownstone Bar?

No, but I know where it
is. Why? You want to go?

I'm not supposed to be actively
investigating this case.

Right now, it's just a
bunch of unrelated bodies

to the NYPD homicide unit.

But the, uh, reporter's
not bound by those rules.

He can do whatever he wants.

Go to The Brownstone Bar.

Ask whatever questions you need.


There's hope for you yet.

Be safe.

- Hi.
- Hey.

I'd give you a hug, but
I have this summer cold,

and I don't know what
the rules are between us.

I want to be respectful.

Well, there are no rules,
Barb, we can still hug.

- We still love each other.
- Okay.

I feel stupid even
worrying about it,

but this is all just
so weird for me.

I know. I'm sorry.

All right. Uh...

might as well get
this over with.

Uh, have your
lawyer mark those up

and then send it back to mine.

I, uh... I... Oh, thank you.

I, uh... I... Thanks.

I-I don't have... much, Barbara.

But you'll see when you look
at those papers that I will do.

My very best to make
sure you're looked after.

Well, I already got a
job... at Bloomingdale's.

- Ah.
- Women's formal shoes, I guess.

Apparently, it's the place to be
if you work on commission, so...

That's great, honey.


Why couldn't you just
have been honest with me

before we got married, Patrick?

I was a coward,

and I loved you.

I thought I could make it work.

Well, you and your secrets.

You are unknowable.

Oh. Thank you.


Well, lucky me.

I'm looking at a time traveler.

A man from that bygone era

when courtship began
innocently enough

with the purchase of a
cocktail and a "hello."

the good old days.

But, uh, I'm not
here on the make.

I'm... I'm Gino Barelli.

- Oh.
- I'm a reporter with The Native.

I was hoping to talk to you.

Why ask me for an interview?

Did that bartender whisper
coquettishly in your ear

about my surrealism collection
back at my brownstone?

My Finis are to die for,

the best in town.

No, the bartender neglected
that fascinating fact.

But he did tell me
that you were a, uh...

You're a regular here.



How can I help you, Lois Lane?

I'm working on a story about
a possible serial killer

trolling the bars and the
piers targeting gay men.

And this story you're
writing about lately...

Do you think this
is going to, what...

Compel your readers to action?

Do you think the
gay men of this city

are gonna change their ways
and start protecting themselves

against the danger that
you're writing about?

Well, from the
sizes of the crowds

outside the bathhouses
and the bars

and on the street corners,

- I would say "no."
- Hmm.

I think this is a mistake.

There's a predator out there.

Well, how can there not be?

Predators thrive on
decadence and excess.

You know, two doors down
from this very spot,

there is a bar called "The
Hole" where, 24 hours a day,

they employ, as an unpaid
volunteer, a young man

for any and all to enjoy.

Now I enjoy a plump rump
as well as the next man,

but how can the darkness
not feel welcome

in an establishment like that?

I'm not looking for the darkness

as an idea.

I'm looking for... a man.

A man who kills.

I think he's been in this bar.

I've seen him.

Someone like him.

He usually comes in late,
five minutes before closing

when all the unloved
queens, too chubby or too...

sad or too messy have
just about given up hope.

He rides in to bring
the hope back to life.

What does he look like?

Honestly, by the
time he comes in,

I'm already too deep
to notice the...

specifics of a man.


One thing I can tell you.

He seems drawn to the
ones that like mai tais.

And once he leaves with them,

I never see them again.

Can I use your name
in the article?

So this killer can
come after me next?

I'm in the phonebook,

No, thank you.

I understand.

- Thanks for your help.
- Mm.

So I have to know
that you're gonna do

whatever it is we ask you to do.

That you're not gonna
get there and back out.

Because our time
is very valuable.

How's your pain threshold?

I came to New York
to be an actor.

I... I wouldn't
want to do anything

that could affect my
reputation, you know?

Do you know who I am?

Who Theo is?

The photos are for private sale

to high-net-worth
men of immense power,

collectors of high
art and beauty

and shock value.

Ruin your reputation?

Baby, I'm offering
you your big break.

You okay, friend?

Thank you. I don't know
what's going on with me.

Looks like maybe someone
slipped something in that drink.

Something's not right.

It's okay. My car's right here.

Don't worry.

You're going to be all right.

Who are you?

All right.

I'm Freddy.

Sam told me to come?

Great. Hold
that. Right there.


And shirt off.




Beautiful, Freddy.
Hold that. Right there.


Uh, no, wait. What are we...?
Are we shooting for Playgirl?

Or what, huh?

Or are we actually making
something worthwhile?

Get naked, Freddy.

What, you don't want to
be shot by Theo Graves?

Good boy.

I want to see the contact
sheets as soon as you develop.

Some of those are going
into my personal collection.


What? You don't approve?

Worse. I don't care.

Hey, do you remember that
really big leather guy

I photographed a few
times a few years back?

Huge guy. Unforgettable.

"Big Daddy" was
his name, I think?

Do you have any idea where he
is, or what his real name was?

I think he's dead. That's
what I heard, anyway.

I want to fuck. Do
you want to fuck?

I got to fuck after that.

Go fuck yourself.

Here you go.

- Thanks.

- Uh...

Look, you seem really cool,

but I'm not sure I'm...

really feeling like
hooking up right now.

The Sully stuff is
really freaking me out.

Right. I didn't ask
you here to fuck.

I heard something
about Big Daddy.

He died a couple years ago.

That's not possible. I'm
sure the guy I saw was him.

He looks exactly like he
did in your photograph.

Must be someone
who looks like him?

I'm sorry.

Um, it's not that
you're not fuckable,

because you totally
are. It's just, uh,

I prefer something a
little more anonymous.

I've got a boyfriend.


You want to get a room?

Not tonight, thanks.

This isn't right.

I know for a fact
you hunt, Deputy.

This isn't hunting.

No, but it's necessary.