Sanctuary (2008–2011): Season 1, Episode 4 - Folding Man - full transcript
After a man makes an impossible escape - the police actually cornered him after a store robbery in a small room with no other doors or windows and only a small vent. By the time the police entered, he was nowhere to be found. For Will the case is eerily familiar to one he worked on when he was with the FBI. Men who had broken into a bank vault managed to escape, much to Will's embarrassment and how it was done was impossible to determine. Dr. Magnus is aware of this type of abnormal called folding men - who can change their body shape to go through very small openings - and there is even a small community of them living nearby. It also seems that the leader of the folding men who were involved in the most recent escape is the same man who escaped from the bank vault in Will's case.
Get 'em up!
Do it.
On the ground.
On the ground!
Please don't shoot!
Take what you want!
Son of a bitch.
He hit the alarm, the silent.
Let's get out of here.
Stop! Police!
Don't move!
Do not move!
I don't want to shoot you!
Come out with your hands up!
He's gone.
I did say 9:00, didn't I?
Sorry I'm late. Bagel run-
Assorted savory,
poppy seed for the big guy,
and two kinds of schmear.
What?
Okay, don't tell me
that you wanted raisin.
There's an interesting case
I'd like you to see. Henry?
Security footage
from a pawnshop robbery last night
near the Campanile.
How the heck did you get
into the precinct Ian?
Well, I'd like to take credit
for that,
but I got the password
from the boss.
And you got in? How?
Now, where would a girl be
without her secrets?
That's... not an answer.
I know.
You'll see the owner shift his weight.
That's the foot-operated silent alarm.
Henry, Henry,
can you go back for a sec?
Yeah, right there. Now, Zoom in.
Huh. Check that out.
Looks like he's scooping up
all of the gold jewelry
and leaving everything else,
including the diamonds.
- Okay, that's just wrong.
- Interesting.
Fast forward, if you would.
Now, they react to the siren
and become frantic.
And this gunman fatally
shoots the owner in the back.
Brutal.
The two robbers split up, and one
is pursued down an alleyway.
There's the dashboard camera
from the cruiser.
And into a coal chute basement.
Okay, I'm still not getting
why this ends up on our radar.
Just wait.
The officers enter the basement
just moments after the gunman did,
and once inside, they report
that there's absolutely no sign of him.
So, what, he just... disappeared?
According to the police,
there was absolutely no way
this man could have possibly exited.
It's all in the police report.
Quite the enigma.
Have I taken
your mind off bagels?
Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure.
Knock yourself out.
No tape. No seal.
Crime lab finished their sweep
this morning.
Concrete floor. No windows...
This doorway was bricked over
decades ago.
And if he didn't leave
the way he came in...
Oh, please don't tell me
we have another teleporter.
Not likely, but I'm not ready
to rule anything out quite yet.
What about this?
That?
- Yeah.
Yeah, sure, if he morphed
into a boa constrictor.
No, Will's right, if only as a potential
place that the robber hid his booty.
I never saw a man
with that small a booty.
We did bring Henry's camera?
Uh, yeah, we did.
It's in the van.
That's a nice toy.
A "toy" like this helped discover
several secrets
of the great pyramids.
Alright.
Go slow.
Switch on the U.V.
U.V. is up.
So how does a fingerprint
get that deep
into the middle of a 10-inch pipe?
Well, it doesn't, unless a person
squeezed in that far.
Yeah, but you saw
the size of that guy.
Well, I've seen stranger things.
Okay, seriously,
why are you staring at me?
If I didn't know any better, I'd say we
were looking at a folding man.
- A folding man?
- Urban legend.
Crops up in city after city.
Supposedly, a man who's capable
of collapsing his skeleton
to fit through narrow spaces.
Although the legend falls short
of a feat like this.
But it is possible that we're looking
at some sort of super-folder.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, just...
Help me out here.
You're familiar
with a newborn's fontanelles?
Yeah, the soft spot
on the top of a baby's head, sure.
Nature created it so the child
could fit through the birth canal.
Yeah, but for a newborn, the head
is the widest part of the anatomy.
And, what, you're talking
about in an adult? It's impossible.
Will, look around you.
10 days ago you, would have said
all of this was impossible.
- Henry, could you run the print?
- I'm on it.
These urban myths we're
talking about go back a lot further
than contemporary sightings.
But they're all part of what,
the same phenomenon?
No, no, there's quite a range.
Flexpeople-
Whole tribes with genetic defects
in collagen synthesis.
There's a sect of Shinto Monks
that are said to bow without bending.
Then you've got
your turn-of-the-century
sideshow contortionists-
The human corkscrew.
Henry Athol the boneless wonder,
and not the least,
my personal favorite,
Elastic Ed.
But no one's ever been able
to fully document these folding men?
Well, if they even exist,
they must be quite elusive.
You know, there was this case
that I worked on at the agency
that never got solved but had a very
similar set of circumstances.
Austin, Texas, 2005.
How do you know about Austin?
Are you serious?
She knows when you switched
from boxers to briefs, man.
What's the similarity?
Three bank employees
gunned down in cold blood,
and the robbers run into a vault
with the cops on their heels,
and apparently "disappear. "
According to Will's report,
the only possible means of escape
was a nine-inch-square
ventilation shaft,
a scenario that didn't win you
many points, if memory serves.
No, but it gets weirder.
Um, the only thing
that was stolen in that robbery
was half a million dollars... in gold.
Whoa.
Do you think it's possible
that Austin and our folding man
are somehow connected?
At the very least
it's a working theory.
Henry?
Got a rock-solid match
on the fingerprint.
Belongs to a career lowlife
named Malcolm Dawkins.
- Is there a last known address?
- Nothing recent.
Lago Vista, Texas,
about four years ago.
Lago Vista,
that's right outside of Austin.
I might be able to get
the bank robbery case file
from my old partner at the agency.
Will.
Hey.
Tell me the rumors aren't true.
What rumors?
Working in-house
for an internet gazillionaire,
fired for insubordination,
consultant for some sort of area 51
freakazoids? Take your pick.
Can't a man just run away
and join the circus
without being second-guessed?
I can't believe you want me
to bail you out one more time.
How many times did I have to pull
your fat out of the fire?
- I kind of lost count.
- Is that it?
Case files, bloodwork,
everything from Austin Federal.
You're a good man, Jake,
I don't care what anyone says.
I'll be gutted like a mackerel if they
find out I brought this stuff to you.
I just want to take
a second look, that's all.
- Out of the blue?
- Yeah.
Come on, Will.
Look, just call it a hunch,
alright?
If it bears any fruit,
you'll be the first to know, I swear.
Okay.
You've got 72 hours.
You compromise that evidence
in any way,
I'll swear
you held a gun to my head.
That was my backup plan.
Looks like your cold case file may
have given us our first positive lead.
I analysed trace blood
from that bank vault.
It didn't match
any of the victims.
Which means it must have come
from one of the robbers.
Do you have a DNA match?
Because we could never find one.
Nor did I, at least
not to an individual who left it,
but we did find someone
right here in old city
whose DNA matches 16 alleles
out of the 20 that we looked at.
That many genetic markers
has got to be a close relative.
Probably the Austin thief's father.
He's a 71-year-old by the name
of Oliver Braithwaite.
His DNA was in the system from
a suspect sweep a few years back.
Do you have an address?
He's a drifter,
from what we can tell.
Hangs out in my favorite part of town,
the old Bryant Street corridor.
Excuse me, I'm looking for a man,
Oliver Braithwaite.
Good evening, ladies.
I was wondering if you knew
of a man named Oliver Braithwaite,
an older gentleman...
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Any luck?
Did you find anything?
Oh, yeah, I got a great recipe
for a rubbing alcohol Martini.
They know the name.
They just seem afraid to talk.
Stay close.
I believe you're looking for me?
Oliver Braithwaite?
Are you the police?
No, absolutely not.
Then you really
have no business being here.
My name is Magnus,
Dr. Helen Magnus.
The Sanctuary?
It's alright.
Leave us.
I heard about the Sanctuary
ever since I was a boy.
A good place, where people like ours
are treated like human beings.
- But you're not...
- We're better than human.
- We have the gift.
- The gift of folding.
My days of folding
are long gone.
We'd like to talk to you
about your son.
Aaron?
- Do you know where Aaron is?
- He's missing?
He's taken up with a madman.
I can't contact him anymore.
We're talking about a folder?
They call him Nomad.
He's taken the best of our youth,
ripped them from their homes,
turned them
against their families.
Aaron was going
to study medicine.
What's this Nomad's agenda?
Well, he may be crazy,
but he's also a criminal genius.
He gets folders hooked
on this addictive drug of his.
He's got some hotshot drug chemist
to make it locally.
If I could... find out where...
I'd kill him myself.
We want to stop this Nomad too.
Maybe we can help each other.
I just... want my boy back,
that's all.
We'll do everything we can.
I promise you.
So, who would know
about this high level of trafficking?
What about our high-flying friend
Mr. Jones?
Worth a try.
You're going to trust
an addict as an informant?
Of course not.
He's a crime boss, controls
most of the city's drug traffic.
I like your office.
Can't beat the view.
And you know I prefer
our conversations private.
Of course, you're taking your life
in your hands coming up here.
Well, I could say the same about you,
considering your line of work.
So now Miss Thang
is working for the cops?
You know me better than that.
What can you tell me
about folding men?
The only folding men I'm
interested in are dead presidents.
I'm looking for a fugitive folder
by the name of Malcolm Dawkins.
The folding men
are like their own little tribe.
They don't come to me
or anyone else for their needs.
Your crime network caters
to abnormals, right?
Drug distribution, prostitution,
gambling... Am I missing something?
You left out my charity work.
Right.
Mr. Jones, the only one
with the resources
to find a folder on the lam is you.
Well, I'm not the only one
who's well connected,
which brings me to the reason
I agreed to see you.
Not that I don't always enjoy
your company...
Save the flattery.
My street troops have been getting
signals in the past week
that someone is about to make
a very big move,
as early as Friday evening.
Nomad, right?
What he does with his own criminal
enterprises is really not my concern.
What is your concern?
That he's making his move on me.
It's how he's planning
to consolidate his power.
I'm thinking we can do each other
a solid-
I tell you where Malcolm is,
you get a lead on Nomad
and take care of my problem.
More than fair.
Our good friend Malcolm's
been spotted near the old cannery.
My men went to capture him,
but he's, uh, slippery.
Thanks, Mr. Jones.
If this works out, I owe you.
I'll hold you to that.
- Watch your step, sista girl.
- Yup. You too.
There he is. Get him.
I've got him!
Malcolm!
I've sedated him.
He'll be out for at least
a couple of hours.
You know, you pass him
on the street,
you have no idea
what he's capable of.
Of course, you could say that
about almost anyone.
Well, here's a reminder
that he's not like anyone.
The gaps in the bone...
Hinges. Crumple Zones,
if you will.
Now, watch. I'll trigger
a localized reflex.
Incredible.
Efficiency of form,
but at what price?
I'd better see about transferring
this guy to a cell.
One without vents.
So, did his blood tell us
what he's addicted to?
Are you strapped in?
I have been since I got here.
I'm guessing it's not
your everyday heroin.
I'm guessing it's gold.
TPG- tertiary phosphine gold.
How did you know?
I didn't. I just figured it had to explain
their obsession with it.
So folding men steal gold and turn it
into their own form of crack?
Gold's unreactive
to most chemicals,
but it will bond
to certain organic compounds.
Now, this one's part
of a whole new wave
of metallotherapeutic
pharmaceuticals.
- So it's a medicine?
- For normals, yes.
But for folding men, at least based
on what I've seen of Malcolm's DNA,
it creates
a virtually instant craving.
It likely also dulls the pain of folding,
acting like a sort of beta blocker.
Without it, the pain
would be beyond excruciating.
Well, if Jones is right,
two nights from now,
Nomad floods the market with this,
cheap, powerful TPG.
It turns the whole society of folding
men into his private criminal army.
If this quantity of designer drug
is being made locally,
it'll leave a trail-
we'll look for that.
Meantime, find out what you can
from Malcolm.
Hey, what about the police?
What about them?
Well, I mean, this guy's an accessory
to murder, maybe more. I mean...
And what would you
have us tell them?
That their man's addicted to gold
and that he slithers like a python?
That's a good point.
Where am I?
You're safe.
Who says?
I'm Dr. Zimmerman. Will.
What is this place?
We call it the Sanctuary.
Am I...
- The only one here?
- Only abnormal?
Or do you mean
another folding man?
I don't know what you think
you're hiding.
We've seen what you can do.
So are there more here?
What are you afraid of?
You chased me, you trapped me,
you put me in this... In this cage.
You experimented on me.
Well, that might make you angry,
but that's not what you're feeling.
If he finds out I'm here,
he'll kill me.
Nomad?
Why would he kill you?
He gave me the signal, shoot to kill,
and I... I hesitated.
And that's a capital offense?
He came that close
to executing me on the spot.
Son of a bitch!
He hit the silent.
Do it.
Let's get out of here.
How do I know you're not Nomad?
Nomad never would've let himself get
caught unless he wanted to be.
He would've turned you
into a stain on the sidewalk first.
Why'd you bring me here?
What do you want from me?
I want you to help us get Nomad
before he can do any more damage.
- Nomad's not the problem.
- No?
You wouldn't understand.
Try me.
You're the problem.
The whole world of normals, you
can't accept those who are different.
This whole place is full
of those that are different.
What does that make you,
the Zookeeper?
And what about the drugs?
They make it less painful?
- What, normals don't use?
- They don't use gold.
Ah, so if I shot heroin,
I'd be a model citizen, right?
You know that he plans to exploit
every last one of you?
He wants to free us.
Children against their parents,
abnormals against normals...
How many more people like that
pawn broker need to get wasted
- on the road to freedom?
- I need a fix.
I'm sure you do.
Let me guess, you used
to set ant colonies on fire
when you were a kid, right?
- Where's Nomad?
- I may be weak.
But I will not betray my kind.
If you give a damn
about your "kind," you'll see
that what this lunatic is doing
ensures their destruction.
Go to hell.
It's pretty much what I expected.
I can get him to talk.
I just need more time.
There's an expression
amongst creature hunters.
If you could teach a lion English,
you still wouldn't understand him.
We're not talking
about a wild animal here.
Oh, Will, that's exactly
what we're talking about,
only this guy's way more
intelligent than most.
And, as a consequence,
more dangerous.
I'm late.
- Going out?
- Yeah.
I owe it to Mr. Jones
to tell him what we've learned.
Stay safe.
How does a flying abnormal
fall to his death?
Somebody literally
clipped his wings.
There was a struggle with a knife,
undoubtedly at the top
of the building.
The assailant left traces
of his own blood.
- Did you run it for DNA?
- No matches to an individual.
But genetic markers indicate it was
definitely the blood of a folding man.
Retribution for the help
that he provided us?
Not retribution, a power grab-
control of the city's crime syndicate
and hundreds of thousands
in drugs and cash.
Just as Mr. Jones feared.
No doubt Nomad will use it
to pay for his truckload of TPG.
We've got less than nine hours.
If we don't intercept that drug
shipment and Nomad gets his way,
the city had better brace itself
for a major crime epidemic.
I still think Malcolm knows
more than he's telling us.
Has he ever talked
about Oliver's son?
Aaron. No, not yet. Why?
Well, based on
his father's description,
I think he might be a chink
in Nomad's armor-
Intelligent, close to his family...
See what you can find out.
Alright.
TPG, TPG, TPG...
Nope, nope...
I keep checking on all the key
ingredients for making TPG,
like you asked- Looking for
shipments to any nearby locations,
but still nothing.
Break it down further, Henry.
The chemist may be making
the constituent compounds
themselves in order to avoid
being detected.
Oh, I get it. See who's buying
the ingredients
- to make the ingredients.
- Precisely.
The gold drug-
when does it arrive?
Austin Federal, 2005.
That one took you down a notch,
didn't it?
What, did you expect me
to deny it?
Nomad knew more about you
than you knew about him.
Irony was, you came so close
to breaking that case.
He got a real kick out of that.
Were you in the vault with him?
Yeah.
- That didn't bother you?
- Of course it bothered me.
The bank manager
was begging for his life...
said he had two little kids,
one with serious mental problems.
Nomad just shot him in the head,
laughing the whole time.
All those years, you didn't think
about just walking away?
And go where?
We had to stay together for safety.
Why is...?
Why is that so hard for you
to understand?
Why don't you tell me
about Aaron Braithwaite?
Aaron wanted to stand up to him.
Did you ever consider
listening to him?
No, you don't get it.
You have no idea
what Nomad is like.
Tell me.
He makes you weak,
and then he tears you apart.
And then he puts you back together,
only it's his way this time.
Aaron always said
if we had any chance
of breaking his hold on us,
we'd have to stop using.
We can't keep doing this. It's wrong.
You want to be free again, right?
You want to see your family again?
Of course, but-
We've got to be united
if we're going to fight back.
And then what?
He'll hunt us down like dogs.
That's exactly
what he wants you to think.
Did I, uh, interrupt something?
- No.
- I didn't ask you, Malcolm.
I was asking Aaron.
You stirring up
trouble again, Aaron, huh?
Have you had your fix today?
Hmm.
If anyone has something to say,
they can say it to my face.
Hey, relax.
I brought you some glitter.
The gold...
The gold drug
has always been the key.
Nomad has to keep us hooked on it.
You must be going through hell.
I'll survive. I can fight it.
But can you fight him?
Not by myself.
How many more innocents are you
going to help him slaughter?
Help me, Malcolm.
Aaron talked about a place...
About a place we could go to...
If we ever got away from Nomad.
If Aaron was in that apartment,
he must have moved everything out.
You think these might be his things?
Maybe.
Or maybe Malcolm led us
on a wild goose chase.
I'm so sorry.
When we promised you
that we would find your son,
I never imagined
that it would be like this.
I wanted Aaron... to be a doctor.
I could imagine him working
in a place like the Sanctuary.
He...
He was a smart boy.
He was kind.
What is there left for me?
What's left for any of us?
When you
broke it all down for me,
the most basic recipe for TPG,
no shortcuts, everything from scratch,
the only local buyer
is a small manufacturer
just three miles north
of the city.
Aridan Labs...
It's almost 4:00.
Our chemist will be leaving
for his rendezvous any time now.
Well, if we're right, he should lead us
straight to Nomad.
I've come up with a chemical test
for the TPG, once we find it.
It's about the only thing that will turn
this liquid a brilliant blue.
What about Will?
He wants one more run at Malcolm.
I don't think
we should take him away from it.
I'm sorry to have to tell you this,
but we found Aaron
at the location you gave us...
No...
There's not much doubt
about who's responsible.
He was my best friend.
If I had only supported him,
he'd probably still be alive,
if we had all just stood up to Nomad
like he wanted...
His blood is on my hands as sure
as if I pulled the trigger myself.
But you didn't pull the trigger.
You're not a murderer, Malcolm.
Aren't I? How do you know
what I'm capable of?
You're right.
I don't.
I've watched him kill more than once
and done nothing.
I helped him beat a man
to within an inch of his life.
And guess what?
I enjoyed it.
I've given over what I am, who I am,
to a monster.
Your awareness, your remorse, that's
what separates you from Nomad.
Nomad's just an excuse.
My addiction is just an excuse.
I'm the monster.
I'm the monster!
Help me get him, Malcolm.
Look at me.
I can't even get through a day
without gold pumping
through my veins.
You're kicking it.
And if you can do it,
so can other folding men.
I'm too weak.
I'm too weak.
My strength comes from the gold
and from Nomad.
No, your strength comes from you.
Malcolm, listen to me-
Folding men are dying.
Innocent people are dying.
Now, you know where he is.
I can't...
Why don't you do it for Aaron?
He gave his life up for you guys.
We're running out of time, Malcolm.
I... I can only tell you
where they used to be based.
It's in an old factory.
The city shut it down.
Toxic metals.
All kinds of places to hide.
No matter where Nomad moved,
he always kept information there,
in loose floorboards, in the walls-
The locations of his safe houses,
the drug labs, weapons caches...
Where would I find
these things?
I'll- I'll give you the address,
I'll, uh, draw you diagrams of it,
describe it all to you.
Or you could just come with me.
That's... That's not going to happen.
Do it for Aaron.
You're doing the right thing.
Trust me.
Okay.
Let's go.
Sorry.
No deliveries after hours.
Hi.
Do you mind telling us
what's in those containers?
Yeah, sure.
Just don't shoot me.
It's... It's laxatives.
Sorry, I don't believe you.
Hands up! Get 'em up!
Both of you.
It's not TPG.
Sit down!
I'm sorry, Malcolm.
Don't be.
I mean, I'm sure
under normal circumstances,
you're a very good
judge of character.
I'd like you all
to meet Dr. Zimmerman.
You'll find you have a lot
in common- No backbone.
- Carver, get me a chair.
- Yes, sir.
- And get me my gun.
- Right away.
How do you know
what I'm capable of?
Nomad never would let himself get
caught... unless he wanted to be.
He may be crazy, but he's also
a criminal genius.
On the ground.
He hit the silent.
Let's get out of here.
You're not stirring up trouble again,
are you, Aaron? Hmm?
Have you had your fix today?
If anyone has something to say,
they can say it to my face.
I'm the monster.
I'm the monster!
You're Nomad.
Carver is your pawn.
They're all your pawns.
Mind like yours, Zimmerman?
Too smart for the room.
Overthinks everything...
The easiest to, uh, manipulate.
Can't you see what he is?
He's just an addict.
He's just an addict
with a messianic complex.
He doesn't care about any of you.
You still don't get it.
I love my people.
I'm doing this for my people.
No more cowering in the shadows.
I'm bringing them into the light.
And what about anyone
who gets in the way?
I think you know
the answer to that.
In a little while, I'll have my hands
on enough TPG to draw recruits
from all over the continent-
A small army of the most powerful
folding men.
Whatever you do to me,
they'll know, at the Sanctuary.
They'll know, and they'll be
all over you.
If I know Dr. Magnus- And I do,
at least by reputation-
she's undoubtedly
already fallen for my bait.
It's amazing the kind
of disinformation you can plant
with just a little know-how.
Oh, and you'll love this, Will.
The TPG, my TPG...
It wasn't made locally.
It's coming from Austin.
I wasn't worried
about the police or Mr. Jones
or anyone, for that matter,
except the Sanctuary.
I had to make sure that none of you
would interfere.
He ordered you
to kill that pawnshop owner.
All it took was a look.
Well, unfortunately,
all these revelations-
you won't be able to share them
with the rest of the world.
And what about Aaron?
Going to let someone
take the rap for that too?
What's he talking about?
Is Aaron...?
- He's dead!
- Yeah, it's a terrible shame.
Jones had him killed,
and then he stuffed his body
in a washing machine.
I never said how he was found.
He was my friend.
Put the gun down, Carver.
Put the guns down, all of you.
That looks like barrels of fun.
He was just a kid!
He was trying to undermine me.
He was trying to undermine all of us.
He deserved a traitor's death.
Drop the guns.
I will not ask again.
You son of a bitch.
Will...
I'm sorry, I...
How did you know?
I had a tracking device put
on your car...
Just in case.
Four to six weeks and most
of our folding men
can be returned to their homes...
Hopefully drug free.
Look, can you just say it, please?
I mean, it's the elephant
in the room.
- I let myself get conned.
- We all let ourselves get conned.
Some of us just had a plan "B."
Yeah, well, that's the last time I play
by the old rules.
Don't be so hard on yourself.
We stopped the destruction
of an entire culture of abnormals.
And you got to the bottom of one
of your agency's biggest mysteries.
You're right.
What am I talking about? I'm a hero.
Actually, on a scale from Zero
to hero, you're more like-
- Ashley...
- Almost respectable.
Just under the wire.
Thanks again, Jake.
Did you get what you need?
Yeah. Yeah,
as a matter of fact, I did.
So...
What, are you going to try
to reopen the Austin murders?
No, I couldn't make any more sense
of it this time 'round
- than I did the first.
- It's a shame, really.
Yeah, well,
we can't solve 'em all, huh?
No, I mean you.
I don't think I've ever met an agent
with more raw potential.
I appreciate that.
It's too bad you still can't seem
to catch a break.
Ah, don't worry about it.
Sometimes...
Sometimes you gotta know
when to "fold" 'em.
Do it.
On the ground.
On the ground!
Please don't shoot!
Take what you want!
Son of a bitch.
He hit the alarm, the silent.
Let's get out of here.
Stop! Police!
Don't move!
Do not move!
I don't want to shoot you!
Come out with your hands up!
He's gone.
I did say 9:00, didn't I?
Sorry I'm late. Bagel run-
Assorted savory,
poppy seed for the big guy,
and two kinds of schmear.
What?
Okay, don't tell me
that you wanted raisin.
There's an interesting case
I'd like you to see. Henry?
Security footage
from a pawnshop robbery last night
near the Campanile.
How the heck did you get
into the precinct Ian?
Well, I'd like to take credit
for that,
but I got the password
from the boss.
And you got in? How?
Now, where would a girl be
without her secrets?
That's... not an answer.
I know.
You'll see the owner shift his weight.
That's the foot-operated silent alarm.
Henry, Henry,
can you go back for a sec?
Yeah, right there. Now, Zoom in.
Huh. Check that out.
Looks like he's scooping up
all of the gold jewelry
and leaving everything else,
including the diamonds.
- Okay, that's just wrong.
- Interesting.
Fast forward, if you would.
Now, they react to the siren
and become frantic.
And this gunman fatally
shoots the owner in the back.
Brutal.
The two robbers split up, and one
is pursued down an alleyway.
There's the dashboard camera
from the cruiser.
And into a coal chute basement.
Okay, I'm still not getting
why this ends up on our radar.
Just wait.
The officers enter the basement
just moments after the gunman did,
and once inside, they report
that there's absolutely no sign of him.
So, what, he just... disappeared?
According to the police,
there was absolutely no way
this man could have possibly exited.
It's all in the police report.
Quite the enigma.
Have I taken
your mind off bagels?
Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure.
Knock yourself out.
No tape. No seal.
Crime lab finished their sweep
this morning.
Concrete floor. No windows...
This doorway was bricked over
decades ago.
And if he didn't leave
the way he came in...
Oh, please don't tell me
we have another teleporter.
Not likely, but I'm not ready
to rule anything out quite yet.
What about this?
That?
- Yeah.
Yeah, sure, if he morphed
into a boa constrictor.
No, Will's right, if only as a potential
place that the robber hid his booty.
I never saw a man
with that small a booty.
We did bring Henry's camera?
Uh, yeah, we did.
It's in the van.
That's a nice toy.
A "toy" like this helped discover
several secrets
of the great pyramids.
Alright.
Go slow.
Switch on the U.V.
U.V. is up.
So how does a fingerprint
get that deep
into the middle of a 10-inch pipe?
Well, it doesn't, unless a person
squeezed in that far.
Yeah, but you saw
the size of that guy.
Well, I've seen stranger things.
Okay, seriously,
why are you staring at me?
If I didn't know any better, I'd say we
were looking at a folding man.
- A folding man?
- Urban legend.
Crops up in city after city.
Supposedly, a man who's capable
of collapsing his skeleton
to fit through narrow spaces.
Although the legend falls short
of a feat like this.
But it is possible that we're looking
at some sort of super-folder.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, just...
Help me out here.
You're familiar
with a newborn's fontanelles?
Yeah, the soft spot
on the top of a baby's head, sure.
Nature created it so the child
could fit through the birth canal.
Yeah, but for a newborn, the head
is the widest part of the anatomy.
And, what, you're talking
about in an adult? It's impossible.
Will, look around you.
10 days ago you, would have said
all of this was impossible.
- Henry, could you run the print?
- I'm on it.
These urban myths we're
talking about go back a lot further
than contemporary sightings.
But they're all part of what,
the same phenomenon?
No, no, there's quite a range.
Flexpeople-
Whole tribes with genetic defects
in collagen synthesis.
There's a sect of Shinto Monks
that are said to bow without bending.
Then you've got
your turn-of-the-century
sideshow contortionists-
The human corkscrew.
Henry Athol the boneless wonder,
and not the least,
my personal favorite,
Elastic Ed.
But no one's ever been able
to fully document these folding men?
Well, if they even exist,
they must be quite elusive.
You know, there was this case
that I worked on at the agency
that never got solved but had a very
similar set of circumstances.
Austin, Texas, 2005.
How do you know about Austin?
Are you serious?
She knows when you switched
from boxers to briefs, man.
What's the similarity?
Three bank employees
gunned down in cold blood,
and the robbers run into a vault
with the cops on their heels,
and apparently "disappear. "
According to Will's report,
the only possible means of escape
was a nine-inch-square
ventilation shaft,
a scenario that didn't win you
many points, if memory serves.
No, but it gets weirder.
Um, the only thing
that was stolen in that robbery
was half a million dollars... in gold.
Whoa.
Do you think it's possible
that Austin and our folding man
are somehow connected?
At the very least
it's a working theory.
Henry?
Got a rock-solid match
on the fingerprint.
Belongs to a career lowlife
named Malcolm Dawkins.
- Is there a last known address?
- Nothing recent.
Lago Vista, Texas,
about four years ago.
Lago Vista,
that's right outside of Austin.
I might be able to get
the bank robbery case file
from my old partner at the agency.
Will.
Hey.
Tell me the rumors aren't true.
What rumors?
Working in-house
for an internet gazillionaire,
fired for insubordination,
consultant for some sort of area 51
freakazoids? Take your pick.
Can't a man just run away
and join the circus
without being second-guessed?
I can't believe you want me
to bail you out one more time.
How many times did I have to pull
your fat out of the fire?
- I kind of lost count.
- Is that it?
Case files, bloodwork,
everything from Austin Federal.
You're a good man, Jake,
I don't care what anyone says.
I'll be gutted like a mackerel if they
find out I brought this stuff to you.
I just want to take
a second look, that's all.
- Out of the blue?
- Yeah.
Come on, Will.
Look, just call it a hunch,
alright?
If it bears any fruit,
you'll be the first to know, I swear.
Okay.
You've got 72 hours.
You compromise that evidence
in any way,
I'll swear
you held a gun to my head.
That was my backup plan.
Looks like your cold case file may
have given us our first positive lead.
I analysed trace blood
from that bank vault.
It didn't match
any of the victims.
Which means it must have come
from one of the robbers.
Do you have a DNA match?
Because we could never find one.
Nor did I, at least
not to an individual who left it,
but we did find someone
right here in old city
whose DNA matches 16 alleles
out of the 20 that we looked at.
That many genetic markers
has got to be a close relative.
Probably the Austin thief's father.
He's a 71-year-old by the name
of Oliver Braithwaite.
His DNA was in the system from
a suspect sweep a few years back.
Do you have an address?
He's a drifter,
from what we can tell.
Hangs out in my favorite part of town,
the old Bryant Street corridor.
Excuse me, I'm looking for a man,
Oliver Braithwaite.
Good evening, ladies.
I was wondering if you knew
of a man named Oliver Braithwaite,
an older gentleman...
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Any luck?
Did you find anything?
Oh, yeah, I got a great recipe
for a rubbing alcohol Martini.
They know the name.
They just seem afraid to talk.
Stay close.
I believe you're looking for me?
Oliver Braithwaite?
Are you the police?
No, absolutely not.
Then you really
have no business being here.
My name is Magnus,
Dr. Helen Magnus.
The Sanctuary?
It's alright.
Leave us.
I heard about the Sanctuary
ever since I was a boy.
A good place, where people like ours
are treated like human beings.
- But you're not...
- We're better than human.
- We have the gift.
- The gift of folding.
My days of folding
are long gone.
We'd like to talk to you
about your son.
Aaron?
- Do you know where Aaron is?
- He's missing?
He's taken up with a madman.
I can't contact him anymore.
We're talking about a folder?
They call him Nomad.
He's taken the best of our youth,
ripped them from their homes,
turned them
against their families.
Aaron was going
to study medicine.
What's this Nomad's agenda?
Well, he may be crazy,
but he's also a criminal genius.
He gets folders hooked
on this addictive drug of his.
He's got some hotshot drug chemist
to make it locally.
If I could... find out where...
I'd kill him myself.
We want to stop this Nomad too.
Maybe we can help each other.
I just... want my boy back,
that's all.
We'll do everything we can.
I promise you.
So, who would know
about this high level of trafficking?
What about our high-flying friend
Mr. Jones?
Worth a try.
You're going to trust
an addict as an informant?
Of course not.
He's a crime boss, controls
most of the city's drug traffic.
I like your office.
Can't beat the view.
And you know I prefer
our conversations private.
Of course, you're taking your life
in your hands coming up here.
Well, I could say the same about you,
considering your line of work.
So now Miss Thang
is working for the cops?
You know me better than that.
What can you tell me
about folding men?
The only folding men I'm
interested in are dead presidents.
I'm looking for a fugitive folder
by the name of Malcolm Dawkins.
The folding men
are like their own little tribe.
They don't come to me
or anyone else for their needs.
Your crime network caters
to abnormals, right?
Drug distribution, prostitution,
gambling... Am I missing something?
You left out my charity work.
Right.
Mr. Jones, the only one
with the resources
to find a folder on the lam is you.
Well, I'm not the only one
who's well connected,
which brings me to the reason
I agreed to see you.
Not that I don't always enjoy
your company...
Save the flattery.
My street troops have been getting
signals in the past week
that someone is about to make
a very big move,
as early as Friday evening.
Nomad, right?
What he does with his own criminal
enterprises is really not my concern.
What is your concern?
That he's making his move on me.
It's how he's planning
to consolidate his power.
I'm thinking we can do each other
a solid-
I tell you where Malcolm is,
you get a lead on Nomad
and take care of my problem.
More than fair.
Our good friend Malcolm's
been spotted near the old cannery.
My men went to capture him,
but he's, uh, slippery.
Thanks, Mr. Jones.
If this works out, I owe you.
I'll hold you to that.
- Watch your step, sista girl.
- Yup. You too.
There he is. Get him.
I've got him!
Malcolm!
I've sedated him.
He'll be out for at least
a couple of hours.
You know, you pass him
on the street,
you have no idea
what he's capable of.
Of course, you could say that
about almost anyone.
Well, here's a reminder
that he's not like anyone.
The gaps in the bone...
Hinges. Crumple Zones,
if you will.
Now, watch. I'll trigger
a localized reflex.
Incredible.
Efficiency of form,
but at what price?
I'd better see about transferring
this guy to a cell.
One without vents.
So, did his blood tell us
what he's addicted to?
Are you strapped in?
I have been since I got here.
I'm guessing it's not
your everyday heroin.
I'm guessing it's gold.
TPG- tertiary phosphine gold.
How did you know?
I didn't. I just figured it had to explain
their obsession with it.
So folding men steal gold and turn it
into their own form of crack?
Gold's unreactive
to most chemicals,
but it will bond
to certain organic compounds.
Now, this one's part
of a whole new wave
of metallotherapeutic
pharmaceuticals.
- So it's a medicine?
- For normals, yes.
But for folding men, at least based
on what I've seen of Malcolm's DNA,
it creates
a virtually instant craving.
It likely also dulls the pain of folding,
acting like a sort of beta blocker.
Without it, the pain
would be beyond excruciating.
Well, if Jones is right,
two nights from now,
Nomad floods the market with this,
cheap, powerful TPG.
It turns the whole society of folding
men into his private criminal army.
If this quantity of designer drug
is being made locally,
it'll leave a trail-
we'll look for that.
Meantime, find out what you can
from Malcolm.
Hey, what about the police?
What about them?
Well, I mean, this guy's an accessory
to murder, maybe more. I mean...
And what would you
have us tell them?
That their man's addicted to gold
and that he slithers like a python?
That's a good point.
Where am I?
You're safe.
Who says?
I'm Dr. Zimmerman. Will.
What is this place?
We call it the Sanctuary.
Am I...
- The only one here?
- Only abnormal?
Or do you mean
another folding man?
I don't know what you think
you're hiding.
We've seen what you can do.
So are there more here?
What are you afraid of?
You chased me, you trapped me,
you put me in this... In this cage.
You experimented on me.
Well, that might make you angry,
but that's not what you're feeling.
If he finds out I'm here,
he'll kill me.
Nomad?
Why would he kill you?
He gave me the signal, shoot to kill,
and I... I hesitated.
And that's a capital offense?
He came that close
to executing me on the spot.
Son of a bitch!
He hit the silent.
Do it.
Let's get out of here.
How do I know you're not Nomad?
Nomad never would've let himself get
caught unless he wanted to be.
He would've turned you
into a stain on the sidewalk first.
Why'd you bring me here?
What do you want from me?
I want you to help us get Nomad
before he can do any more damage.
- Nomad's not the problem.
- No?
You wouldn't understand.
Try me.
You're the problem.
The whole world of normals, you
can't accept those who are different.
This whole place is full
of those that are different.
What does that make you,
the Zookeeper?
And what about the drugs?
They make it less painful?
- What, normals don't use?
- They don't use gold.
Ah, so if I shot heroin,
I'd be a model citizen, right?
You know that he plans to exploit
every last one of you?
He wants to free us.
Children against their parents,
abnormals against normals...
How many more people like that
pawn broker need to get wasted
- on the road to freedom?
- I need a fix.
I'm sure you do.
Let me guess, you used
to set ant colonies on fire
when you were a kid, right?
- Where's Nomad?
- I may be weak.
But I will not betray my kind.
If you give a damn
about your "kind," you'll see
that what this lunatic is doing
ensures their destruction.
Go to hell.
It's pretty much what I expected.
I can get him to talk.
I just need more time.
There's an expression
amongst creature hunters.
If you could teach a lion English,
you still wouldn't understand him.
We're not talking
about a wild animal here.
Oh, Will, that's exactly
what we're talking about,
only this guy's way more
intelligent than most.
And, as a consequence,
more dangerous.
I'm late.
- Going out?
- Yeah.
I owe it to Mr. Jones
to tell him what we've learned.
Stay safe.
How does a flying abnormal
fall to his death?
Somebody literally
clipped his wings.
There was a struggle with a knife,
undoubtedly at the top
of the building.
The assailant left traces
of his own blood.
- Did you run it for DNA?
- No matches to an individual.
But genetic markers indicate it was
definitely the blood of a folding man.
Retribution for the help
that he provided us?
Not retribution, a power grab-
control of the city's crime syndicate
and hundreds of thousands
in drugs and cash.
Just as Mr. Jones feared.
No doubt Nomad will use it
to pay for his truckload of TPG.
We've got less than nine hours.
If we don't intercept that drug
shipment and Nomad gets his way,
the city had better brace itself
for a major crime epidemic.
I still think Malcolm knows
more than he's telling us.
Has he ever talked
about Oliver's son?
Aaron. No, not yet. Why?
Well, based on
his father's description,
I think he might be a chink
in Nomad's armor-
Intelligent, close to his family...
See what you can find out.
Alright.
TPG, TPG, TPG...
Nope, nope...
I keep checking on all the key
ingredients for making TPG,
like you asked- Looking for
shipments to any nearby locations,
but still nothing.
Break it down further, Henry.
The chemist may be making
the constituent compounds
themselves in order to avoid
being detected.
Oh, I get it. See who's buying
the ingredients
- to make the ingredients.
- Precisely.
The gold drug-
when does it arrive?
Austin Federal, 2005.
That one took you down a notch,
didn't it?
What, did you expect me
to deny it?
Nomad knew more about you
than you knew about him.
Irony was, you came so close
to breaking that case.
He got a real kick out of that.
Were you in the vault with him?
Yeah.
- That didn't bother you?
- Of course it bothered me.
The bank manager
was begging for his life...
said he had two little kids,
one with serious mental problems.
Nomad just shot him in the head,
laughing the whole time.
All those years, you didn't think
about just walking away?
And go where?
We had to stay together for safety.
Why is...?
Why is that so hard for you
to understand?
Why don't you tell me
about Aaron Braithwaite?
Aaron wanted to stand up to him.
Did you ever consider
listening to him?
No, you don't get it.
You have no idea
what Nomad is like.
Tell me.
He makes you weak,
and then he tears you apart.
And then he puts you back together,
only it's his way this time.
Aaron always said
if we had any chance
of breaking his hold on us,
we'd have to stop using.
We can't keep doing this. It's wrong.
You want to be free again, right?
You want to see your family again?
Of course, but-
We've got to be united
if we're going to fight back.
And then what?
He'll hunt us down like dogs.
That's exactly
what he wants you to think.
Did I, uh, interrupt something?
- No.
- I didn't ask you, Malcolm.
I was asking Aaron.
You stirring up
trouble again, Aaron, huh?
Have you had your fix today?
Hmm.
If anyone has something to say,
they can say it to my face.
Hey, relax.
I brought you some glitter.
The gold...
The gold drug
has always been the key.
Nomad has to keep us hooked on it.
You must be going through hell.
I'll survive. I can fight it.
But can you fight him?
Not by myself.
How many more innocents are you
going to help him slaughter?
Help me, Malcolm.
Aaron talked about a place...
About a place we could go to...
If we ever got away from Nomad.
If Aaron was in that apartment,
he must have moved everything out.
You think these might be his things?
Maybe.
Or maybe Malcolm led us
on a wild goose chase.
I'm so sorry.
When we promised you
that we would find your son,
I never imagined
that it would be like this.
I wanted Aaron... to be a doctor.
I could imagine him working
in a place like the Sanctuary.
He...
He was a smart boy.
He was kind.
What is there left for me?
What's left for any of us?
When you
broke it all down for me,
the most basic recipe for TPG,
no shortcuts, everything from scratch,
the only local buyer
is a small manufacturer
just three miles north
of the city.
Aridan Labs...
It's almost 4:00.
Our chemist will be leaving
for his rendezvous any time now.
Well, if we're right, he should lead us
straight to Nomad.
I've come up with a chemical test
for the TPG, once we find it.
It's about the only thing that will turn
this liquid a brilliant blue.
What about Will?
He wants one more run at Malcolm.
I don't think
we should take him away from it.
I'm sorry to have to tell you this,
but we found Aaron
at the location you gave us...
No...
There's not much doubt
about who's responsible.
He was my best friend.
If I had only supported him,
he'd probably still be alive,
if we had all just stood up to Nomad
like he wanted...
His blood is on my hands as sure
as if I pulled the trigger myself.
But you didn't pull the trigger.
You're not a murderer, Malcolm.
Aren't I? How do you know
what I'm capable of?
You're right.
I don't.
I've watched him kill more than once
and done nothing.
I helped him beat a man
to within an inch of his life.
And guess what?
I enjoyed it.
I've given over what I am, who I am,
to a monster.
Your awareness, your remorse, that's
what separates you from Nomad.
Nomad's just an excuse.
My addiction is just an excuse.
I'm the monster.
I'm the monster!
Help me get him, Malcolm.
Look at me.
I can't even get through a day
without gold pumping
through my veins.
You're kicking it.
And if you can do it,
so can other folding men.
I'm too weak.
I'm too weak.
My strength comes from the gold
and from Nomad.
No, your strength comes from you.
Malcolm, listen to me-
Folding men are dying.
Innocent people are dying.
Now, you know where he is.
I can't...
Why don't you do it for Aaron?
He gave his life up for you guys.
We're running out of time, Malcolm.
I... I can only tell you
where they used to be based.
It's in an old factory.
The city shut it down.
Toxic metals.
All kinds of places to hide.
No matter where Nomad moved,
he always kept information there,
in loose floorboards, in the walls-
The locations of his safe houses,
the drug labs, weapons caches...
Where would I find
these things?
I'll- I'll give you the address,
I'll, uh, draw you diagrams of it,
describe it all to you.
Or you could just come with me.
That's... That's not going to happen.
Do it for Aaron.
You're doing the right thing.
Trust me.
Okay.
Let's go.
Sorry.
No deliveries after hours.
Hi.
Do you mind telling us
what's in those containers?
Yeah, sure.
Just don't shoot me.
It's... It's laxatives.
Sorry, I don't believe you.
Hands up! Get 'em up!
Both of you.
It's not TPG.
Sit down!
I'm sorry, Malcolm.
Don't be.
I mean, I'm sure
under normal circumstances,
you're a very good
judge of character.
I'd like you all
to meet Dr. Zimmerman.
You'll find you have a lot
in common- No backbone.
- Carver, get me a chair.
- Yes, sir.
- And get me my gun.
- Right away.
How do you know
what I'm capable of?
Nomad never would let himself get
caught... unless he wanted to be.
He may be crazy, but he's also
a criminal genius.
On the ground.
He hit the silent.
Let's get out of here.
You're not stirring up trouble again,
are you, Aaron? Hmm?
Have you had your fix today?
If anyone has something to say,
they can say it to my face.
I'm the monster.
I'm the monster!
You're Nomad.
Carver is your pawn.
They're all your pawns.
Mind like yours, Zimmerman?
Too smart for the room.
Overthinks everything...
The easiest to, uh, manipulate.
Can't you see what he is?
He's just an addict.
He's just an addict
with a messianic complex.
He doesn't care about any of you.
You still don't get it.
I love my people.
I'm doing this for my people.
No more cowering in the shadows.
I'm bringing them into the light.
And what about anyone
who gets in the way?
I think you know
the answer to that.
In a little while, I'll have my hands
on enough TPG to draw recruits
from all over the continent-
A small army of the most powerful
folding men.
Whatever you do to me,
they'll know, at the Sanctuary.
They'll know, and they'll be
all over you.
If I know Dr. Magnus- And I do,
at least by reputation-
she's undoubtedly
already fallen for my bait.
It's amazing the kind
of disinformation you can plant
with just a little know-how.
Oh, and you'll love this, Will.
The TPG, my TPG...
It wasn't made locally.
It's coming from Austin.
I wasn't worried
about the police or Mr. Jones
or anyone, for that matter,
except the Sanctuary.
I had to make sure that none of you
would interfere.
He ordered you
to kill that pawnshop owner.
All it took was a look.
Well, unfortunately,
all these revelations-
you won't be able to share them
with the rest of the world.
And what about Aaron?
Going to let someone
take the rap for that too?
What's he talking about?
Is Aaron...?
- He's dead!
- Yeah, it's a terrible shame.
Jones had him killed,
and then he stuffed his body
in a washing machine.
I never said how he was found.
He was my friend.
Put the gun down, Carver.
Put the guns down, all of you.
That looks like barrels of fun.
He was just a kid!
He was trying to undermine me.
He was trying to undermine all of us.
He deserved a traitor's death.
Drop the guns.
I will not ask again.
You son of a bitch.
Will...
I'm sorry, I...
How did you know?
I had a tracking device put
on your car...
Just in case.
Four to six weeks and most
of our folding men
can be returned to their homes...
Hopefully drug free.
Look, can you just say it, please?
I mean, it's the elephant
in the room.
- I let myself get conned.
- We all let ourselves get conned.
Some of us just had a plan "B."
Yeah, well, that's the last time I play
by the old rules.
Don't be so hard on yourself.
We stopped the destruction
of an entire culture of abnormals.
And you got to the bottom of one
of your agency's biggest mysteries.
You're right.
What am I talking about? I'm a hero.
Actually, on a scale from Zero
to hero, you're more like-
- Ashley...
- Almost respectable.
Just under the wire.
Thanks again, Jake.
Did you get what you need?
Yeah. Yeah,
as a matter of fact, I did.
So...
What, are you going to try
to reopen the Austin murders?
No, I couldn't make any more sense
of it this time 'round
- than I did the first.
- It's a shame, really.
Yeah, well,
we can't solve 'em all, huh?
No, I mean you.
I don't think I've ever met an agent
with more raw potential.
I appreciate that.
It's too bad you still can't seem
to catch a break.
Ah, don't worry about it.
Sometimes...
Sometimes you gotta know
when to "fold" 'em.