The Librarians (2014–2018): Season 2, Episode 7 - And the Image of Image - full transcript

Jacob!

Hey. Huh?

- How was the Royal Institute?
- Awesome.

I mean, still arguing about
the whole Andrade hullabaloo.

Anything on Prospero at the RCS?

Nothing we didn't already know.

- How about a pint?
- Okay.

Ohh!

Maggie!

- Did you see that?
- She flew.

Call 9-9-9.



That was magic.

So why didn't the Clipping Book warn us?

- Yes, there's been an accident!
- Is she okay?

Oh! Come on.

Mr. Jones, please tell me that
you did not post this anywhere

that has a tweet, a face, or a gram.

Duh, it's awesome.

Librarians work in the shadows, Mr. Jones.

We cannot go around
displaying ourselves like...

YouTube celebrities.

I'm doing an Ollie Impossible.
How could I not post that?

You're doing an Ollie Impossible

off the Great Sphinx of Giza.

Yeah, that's what makes it epic!



Besides, nobody knows me as a Librarian.

They know me as Ezekiel
Jones, Professor of Awesome.

Thousands of years,

the only way that people
could look at themselves

was in a pool of water.

Now we have photos of ourselves
taking photos of ourselves.

It had to be magic, guaranteed.

And nothing from the Clipping Book?

- Library's back in shape.
- It should be working fine.

Are you okay?!

Something we should check out?

Talking to the Library again?

Now that I've met the building
face-to-face, not that weird.

Okay, I think I found another one.

It's a delivery boy from a diner
right nearby today's accident.

Curt Cooper, an honor student.

His mother swears he
never did drugs, and yet,

he suffered the effects of an overdose.

Everybody says they're clean.
That's human nature, not magic.

This girl flew through the
air like she was hit by a car.

I mean, there was no car.

Invisible car. Don't think
we've done that one yet.

All right, Clipping
Book's not helping us out,

we do this old school.

Stone, you're with me on detective work.

We talk to this kid's mother.

Cassandra, see if you can dig up a pattern,

- use Ezekiel to comb through the data.
- Got it.

Ezekiel, be a comb.

Go.

And doctors confirmed
your son's gonna be okay.

Sorry, you're who again?

We're the Librarians.

We're following up on a story

that the paper's doing on your son.

Oh. Librarians are so helpful.

Yeah, Curt never touched
drugs a day in his life.

He was completely focused
on school and sports.

He was going for a footballer
scholarship, he was.

And you're saying he was here
in the diner with you all night?

Yeah, over eight hours. We
were serving the Hoppers.

That's what I call the late-nighters

who come in to sober
up or just not be alone.

I'm sorry, so he never left at all?

He made one delivery to
the club across the way.

Gone less than five minutes.

Doctor said he had all the symptoms

of a massive cocaine overdose,

but there was nothing in his bloodstream.

- It's rubbish.
- Let me ask you a question.

Logo of the club...

Look like that?

Yeah, Club Effigy, just a few blocks over.

It's a magical nexus.

Both victims, no connection to each other,

both accidents completely unrelated.

And yet, both of them occurred
within a few blocks of a club

they both visited.

I know this neighborhood.

What about it?

Uh...

Something tickling the back of my brain.

It'll... it'll come to me.

You're sure car crash girl was there?

Yeah, the stamp on her wrist
matched the logo for the club.

- You would know...
- I would know

because I've been in enough
bars to know a fresh stamp.

Naomi said Curt Cooper was only in the club

a minute or two for delivery.

Doesn't matter.

It was the only point at which
both victims' paths crossed.

More than both. I found seven more cases.

People who suffered from
accidents, overdoses,

alcohol poisoning, all under
mysterious circumstances.

All young, all beautiful,
and all in that same area.

So it's the club itself.

Or at least it's something inside the club

- that's causing these accidents.
- Cursed building maybe?

That is why the Library
sent you people letters.

Oh. No.

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

So not doing that.

- Doing what?
- You're all going clubbing.

Yes! Finally, a proper case!

- I've never been clubbing before.
- Fun.

People bumping into you,
spilling drinks on you,

music so loud your ears bleed.

Wow. When did I turn into grandma?

Now the key to a healthy
clubbing experience

is to embrace the environment.

Sorry. You just don't strike
me as the clubbing type.

Did you go to Studio 54 back in the day?

- Oh.
- Just a...

wannabe flash in the pan, my friend.

I'll have you know that
Snakehips Tucker and I

danced together at the Cotton Club.

And I performed naked onstage

with the Magic Tramps at CBGB's.

That's just gonna... live in my head now.

- So we're going clubbing?
- We are not going clubbing.

Ladies and gentlemen,
stay in line. No shoving.

Everyone outside will get
inside if you are chosen.

When did everybody become
obsessed with selfies?

Well, in the old days, rich
people with a lot of money

would pay to stand in front
of someone for three months

to have 'em paint 'em,
so it's the same thing.

You know, I think I've only
had my picture taken, like,

14 times... um, yearbooks,
driver's license,

Mathlete Honor Society.
Consider yourself lucky.

Well, your pictures are out
there more than you think...

security cameras, dash cams.

Every one of us is all over the internet.

Whether you like it or
not, image is everything.

Comforting.

If you're chosen, surrender
your phones inside.

No exceptions.

Uh, what about those images?

Club Effigy owns all
images from inside the club.

Now those out there...

They're the chosen ones.

What happens in Club E stays in Effigy.

"Chosen Ones"? Please.

Yeah, that is kinda yucky.

- You two. In. Let's go.
- Yes!

Yes! You, come on! We're
chosen! We're chosen!

- We are the chosen!
- There you go. There you go.

Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa.

We're... we're with them.
We... we came with them.

Uh, not anymore, Yank.

Cowboy bar's down the street, mate.

I... There's not even...

There's nothing about
this that says cowboy.

Yeah, we heard.

What if I need to make a phone call?

Okay, just... just a minute.

Um... Zuni fetish,

EM spectrometer,

Little Book of Exorcisms,

Key of Al-Azeroth. Mm.

Ooh! There's that button.

Huh.

And... cell phone! Yes!

Nice talking to you.

So if I was to buy you two a drink,

what would I be getting?

- Excuse me. Sorry. Hey.
- Oh...

You're dicing my flow.

The display. I just saw
both of our victims...

Elizabeth Ronder, our car crash girl,

and the Cooper kid.

We already knew both of them were here.

Yeah, man, but the hot
girl makes sense, right?

But why is a delivery
guy in the club's rotation

of the chosen ones?

We gotta get in there.

Chosen, mate, as in must be.

Right, let me talk to
him. You do your thing.

- My thing?
- Yeah. Do your thief thing.

All right, I'll distract him, you sneak in.

Hi.

Excuse me. Buckingham guard.

Hi.

What do you got against Americans, man?

You think you're better
than everyone else, for one.

It's kind of a known
thing, though, isn't it?

I mean, that's just true.
That's not really an opinion.

- Oh, really?
- Yeah.

Name me one great American...

I don't know, writer or poet.

Writer or poet.

You want 'em alphabetically
or do you want 'em by century?

I'll tell you what we'll do,
we'll just start with the 20th.

Yeah?

Uh, E.E. Cummings, Allen Ginsberg.

You got Williams Carlos Williams.

That's a good one.

I mean, you got Lowell,
Sandburg, Plath, Frost, Sexton,

and, if you will, my personal favorite,

Raymond Carver. Mm.

Now, give me one Brit that can
stand with any of those guys.

T.S. Eliot.

T.S. Eliot.

That's a good one. That's a good one.

There's only... I have one problem.

The only problem that I have...

he was born in St. Louis, Missouri.

Hmm. Look it up. I'll wait here.

Muy caliente. Show me what you got, ladies.

Oh, yes, beautiful. Hey,
uh, you messed up there.

No, I didn't. Image is everything, mate.

Why don't you like
having your picture taken?

I got called "Blondie,"
"Cutie," and "Sweet Cheeks"

by almost every commanding
officer I ever had.

And when I was

the youngest head of the
NATO counterterrorism force,

I still got my butt pinched

by five prime ministers and a president.

People see the outside of
you, they think they know you,

and you never escape that image.

Yes, sir. Sinner's Paradise, please.

Ooh, and a club soda for me.

- Coming right up.
- What's a Sinner's Paradise?

Louis XIII cognac,

fresh lemons delivered from Sicily,

and Cointreau infused
with 24-karat gold flakes.

How much does that cost?

Mm... 300 quid.

But... I've got Jenkins' credit card.

He won't mind.

Oh, and, uh, Stone said something about

the images on the wall.

Those were our victims.

Maybe it's something with the photos.

I'll look for clues.

What exactly are you doing?

Trying... to pinpoint...

details.

Okay, the bartender's hair is longer there.

That guy's wearing a wedding ring here,

but not here, so that had to come first.

Maybe he got divorced.

Nope. No tan line.

Oh! That girl's wearing
an original Erin Walter,

and there are two girls
wearing the same dress.

It's that one, so it's gotta come after.

I just need to figure
out... time... lime. Line.

Timeline.

Okay, that's it.

The delivery boy was here the night before

the accident girl.

Got it!

Any way you can predict the next victim?

It's either...

her or that tiny purple rhino.

Did you say "tiny purple rhino"?

Yeah. Um...

it's probably the girl
with the tattoos, right?

Any way of identifying her?

The tiny purple rhino?

The next victim?

Everybody's identify's available.

Give me two minutes and I'll have

what grade she got in freshman English.

Get Stone. Find that girl.

We'll keep workin' DA club.

All right, got one. I
got one... Seamus Heaney.

- He's Irish, man.
- So was Yeats.

Um, here's one, though.

You got, you know, Dylan Thomas.

But he was Welsh.

- Welsh. Come on, man.
- Got you! Oi!

You know what I'm saying? Exactly, man. Oh!

Yeah, listen, man, I...

- Wait. No, no, what are you doing?
- Okay, we gotta go.

I haven't got in the club, man.

Well, Cassandra figured out
who the next victim might be.

- Did they get a name?
- No,

but I cross-referenced
her image on social media

because everybody wants to be noticed.

I got into her feed. She just
dropped a pic 10 minutes ago.

- "Grabbing snacks after Club E with Bae."
- Wait.

I know this restaurant.
It's right down the block.

Let's go. Excuse me.

Magic camera. Evil camera,

Maybe magic evil camera.
We need to talk to that guy.

Did you know that my
neighbor has three rabbits?

Why are you quoting "Jerry Maguire"?

I never saw that movie.

Are you drunk?

Is drunk when your body is a marshmallow

and your head feels like a bowling ball?

You're drunk. I thought
you were drinking club soda.

I only had the fizzy water.

I don't know how this happened!

Oh, sorry!

Librarians clean up nice.

Thank you.

So we're here to follow up.

We think this girl might be in trouble.

Okay, so if you see or spot
anything strange or weird,

- just let us know.
- Excuse me...

I... spotted something.

- Wake up.
- You okay?

Jones!

Jones! What are you doin'?

I'm... calling Cassandra!

- They... they don't have their phone!
- Oh!

Come get her legs. Grab her legs.

I don't have a pulse.

- Call an ambulance!
- The streets are jammed Saturday night!

- They'll never get here in time!
- Yeah, what do we do?

I think I'm doing it, Jones.

If she's like the others
then her heart stopped

because of a drug or
something club-related.

Cold and clammy.

Not dilated. Not a stimulant.

- Uh, depressant.
- When did you get a medical degree?

While you were working on a pipeline,

I was dancing between Barcelona raves

and Macao dance clubs.

Seen enough idiots do this to themselves.

You gotta shock her.

The surface area is too low, all right?

All that's gonna do is burn her.

You have to... Ooh, paddles!

Take 'em.

Give me them.

Wait, wait, wait! Shoulder and ribs.

- Could this kill her?
- I don't know. These are unsheathed.

- Probably kill us both.
- Right.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

All right.

I've got a pulse!

Where did this guy go?

Great. Love sloppy drunks.

Oh, pishposh, Evie.

You think I care...

...what all of these pretty people think,

with their pretty faces
and their pretty shoes?

I'm not so sure about my
face, but your face is okay.

Boop, boop, boop, oh.

- Whoa!
- Whoop! Oh.

I think they're both exquisite.

Not tonight, pal.

Actually, I was just
gonna help your friend.

Uh, this isn't uncommon at Effigy.

Okay. I'm okay.

Thank you.

My absolute pleasure. May
I offer each of you a drink?

Oh, she's clearly had enough.

Well, the only thing one could
have enough of is moderation.

Moderation, modulation, equation, math!

She doesn't get out much.

Well, she's doing a
luxurious job of hiding it.

My God, she really is an
almost complete innocent.

Not a lot of those wandering into Effigy.

You... come here often?

That may well be the
most original pick-up line

I have ever heard.

Swipe left.

Never mind. Online dating joke.

Oh, you should see her
do that... Evie, do it.

Do your karaoke of "Janie's Got a Gun."

- I'd like to see that.
- Anyway, I asked

because, uh, this wall of images,

do you know anything about that?

Image, my love...

Did you know that every
year, more pictures are taken

than in every previous year in history?

Combined. Every year.

And do you know what

the majority of those pictures are?

Us. Not even other people.

Ourselves.

A million narcissi, gazing
lovingly into our own eyes

on web sites and phone screens.

Come. Let me show you something.

Have you noticed?

They're not looking at each other.

They're looking up here,
hoping to see themselves.

You see, it is more pleasurable for them

to see themselves having fun

than to actually feel it.

But you're not one of them.

No.

You work here or something?

- I haven't worked in years...
- Oh! There he is.

Thanks for your help.

- Cassandra! Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go!
- Huh?

Okay.

Hey!

Hello, I believe the lady
would like to speak with you.

Jenkins! How'd you get in?

I snuck in with the band.

I became more and more
convinced that something evil

had happened near here even
if I couldn't pinpoint it.

And I became concerned
with your lack of contact.

So I made my way over.

What is your problem?

I tried taking your shot.

You kept diving like a
Portuguese footballer.

Uh, that is private property!

Magic or evil?

Uh, neither, as far as I can tell.

Oh, I see what's going on here.

You're stepping out on somebody, right?

Yeah? You don't want any pics?

And this is your sugar daddy, isn't it?

I am no one's daddy, sugar or otherwise.

Jenkins!

Whoo!

My marshmallow is growing and
my bowling ball is shrinking.

Ah. Well, I see Cassandra
has embraced clubbing.

Oh, no memory card.

Yeah, well, the pictures just
get uploaded automatically

to the server wirelessly.

I don't even know where.
I just take the shots.

You know, um...

you and me, we could, uh, do a little bit

of a, uh, private session in the back.

Colonel.

Go... away.

Right.

And we care about the
photographer because...

We found a pattern.

I found the pattern.

This place is all about images.

Our victims have been showing
up on this photo display.

Yeah, in chronographic order.

Have you been able to
identify the next victim?

I sent Stone and Ezekiel to protect her.

The big wall of images.
There's something else there.

Um, I believe we should check

on the status of Mr. Jones and Mr. Stone.

Pay phone over there.

Ah. Good.

Jenkins!

Jenkins!

Jenkins.

Hey.

Aren't you supposed to
be protecting someone?

Yeah, yeah, we got...

Are you in the club now?

Good for you, mate!

Why am I the only one not
getting into this club?!

The girl was the next victim,
but we got to her in time.

Just realized this could
be image transference.

A key to... of many
different styles of magic...

voodoo, European witchcraft.

Focus, power, and effect.

Now if the images are the focus
and the mishaps are the effect,

we need to find the power,

which will be some sort of
rage or... or resentment.

Resentment in a nightclub.

- That narrows it down.
- Wait, there's something off

about the effect in this equation.

These people are paying
for sins they didn't do.

Right, the diner guy didn't
do any drugs, but he OD'd.

The girl wasn't hit by a car, but she was.

I just said that.

Binge drinking, overdoses,
walking into traffic...

it's like they're suffering
other people's bad behavior.

Perhaps... it's in the building itself?

That's the only building on the block

that still has its pre-war
foundation and edifice.

I mean, I'm guessing it's
probably privately owned

for a few generations.

I-I... I've been here.

Uh, the... the 1940s. No, 1800.

Mm, 1800s. Post-Regency, definitely.

While you nail down a century,
Cassandra and I will...

Okay, when did we lose Cassandra?

I need you to find the original records

of who owned this building when.

Hello?

Fabulous, isn't it?

All that youth and beauty in one place.

I know you.

You're the sexy, charming guy

who tried to tempt me with a drink earlier.

Ooh. Ooh.

The only way to get of
temptation is to yield to it.

You're bad, aren't you?

Bad?

No, I'm just Dorian.

Dorian Gray.

Evie.

Eve-o. Eve-tastico.

You cannot still be drunk.

Everything is still wubba-wubba.

Ooh, where's Jenkins?
I wanna touch his hair.

It's magnificent.

I sent him off with the
guys to do some research

while we continue surveillance.

What's up with these photos?

Oh. I matched the pictures
to the actual club around me.

That's where we are, the actual club.

Here.

Thanks for that clarification.

Sure. Oh, also, some of
the photos have been...

What's that word that means manipulated?

- Manipulated?
- Yes!

So someone's altering the images,

but we don't know why.

This just keeps getting weirder.

I can't find anything on this building.

Even the London Registry
of Deeds and Titles

is coming up blank.

Dunston.

Yeah.

During the 1800s, that
street was called Dunston.

And then the entire
area was severely damaged

during the Blitz.

They rerouted the street
and renamed it all post-war.

Look for the same street
address, but under Dunston.

Dunston.

Oh, here... here you go. Uh, okay.

Owner...

This can't be right.

It says the owner is Basil Hallward.

Yes, of course. That's how I know.

Who's Basil Hallward?

He's the artist that painted Dorian Gray

in Oscar Wilde's novel.

- So another Fictional then?
- No, Dorian Gray was real.

Dorian Gray was real?

Yes, he was Oscar Wilde's best friend...

a-actually, more than friends.

More than friends.

You know, during the 1800s,

lots of folks were
mucking about with magic.

We lost three Librarians
in a span of 8 months.

Dorian was very heavily
into magic and a narcissist.

As Oscar recounts in the story,

Dorian had a portrait of himself
painted and then magically,

every excess, every sin
that Dorian committed

got transferred to the painting,

giving him eternal youth
no matter his actions.

So the book's a true story?

Well, Oscar wrote it
as a-a cautionary tale

of the power and danger of magic.

Well, if Dorian Gray's still around,

he owns Club Effigy.

- Well, why do you say that?
- It's right here. DG Trust.

It's the current power
of attorney for Hallward.

DG Trust? Really? He couldn't come up with

something more original than that?

So wait, that means that
Dorian has figured out a way

to transfer his sins to the
victims who enter his club.

Now that I know it's Dorian,
I can figure out how he did it.

How do we stop a bloke like that?

Well, Dorian's soul is
bound to the painting.

In theory, destroy the painting,
destroy Dorian. In theory.

Where's the painting?

DG Trust owns an art
gallery very near the club.

I'll bet you anything
it's closed right now.

Well, I do closed very well.

What are you doing? Let's go.

Just wait. It's reading my retina.

How does this gallery have
your retina scan on file?

Most blokes waste their time

trying to fool the retinal scanners.

Me? I hacked the company
that makes the scanners

and installed my own scans
onto the software as a backdoor.

I have a free pass to maybe
600 galleries around the world.

Let's just do this so
we can get outta here.

They don't have any names.

How do we know which is the right one?

Process of elimination.

This is a Degas.

Oh, Rubens.

Here's a Titian.

Hey.

- Let's get to shredding.
- No, no, wait.

These colors are too good.

Not a modern art preservation
place in the world

that could keep something this good.

It's a decoy.

Must've hid the portrait
under another painting.

Then let's just shred them all.

- Do you know the value of these?
- Probably better than you.

The artistic value.

Hey, come here.

That is a very sinful man.

Is that pus?

Drink, drink, drink, drink.

I'm not as think as you think I am.

We gotta go.

No, but we still haven't
stopped all of the bad thingies

from happening to the good people.

We need to find out who's next.

Uh... Uh-oh.

We did it. We destroyed
the painting of Dorian Gray.

Dorian Gray?

Guy who's soul is in a picture?
Gets worse while he stays young?

Yeah, Jenkins said if we
destroyed the painting,

spell's broken, and whatever Dorian's doing

to the club members goes poof.

Well,

Cassandra's still
officially under his spell.

I've given her nothing but coffee,

she keeps getting more hammered.

Power, focus, effect.

If she's still absorbing the effect,

then the painting wasn't the focus.

There's another picture of
Dorian somewhere in the club.

- Where's Stone?
- He couldn't get in.

We've gotta find Dorian.

Dorian? My Dorian?

Oh, yeah, you know who he is.

You already blew him off, Miss Crankypants.

- That was Dorian Gray?
- Mm-hmm.

- Okay, where would his picture be?
- I don't know.

- Basement?
- There isn't one.

Well, if it's not down, then it's up.

Mm.

Okay.

Told ya.

They've been...

Oh. That was almost a tragedy.

They've been color shifted to
make a photo mosaic, I think.

Either that or I've been color shifted.

Okay, check it.

This bloke's made

a 21st century version of his portrait.

So instead of just one image
absorbing all of his sins,

it's the hundreds of people
who've been to the club.

And sometimes I push just a bit too hard.

That would be a very bad idea.

Whatever we do to him,
whatever he does to himself,

it'll just hurt Cassandra.

Why are you hurting folks?

Oh, I don't mean to, my sweet girl.

Unfortunately, if I or my... habits

damage myself traumatically,
it tends to strike

whoever had their picture
taken most recently.

And you don't care at all, do you?

That wheedling tone of morality

indicates that one of you is a Librarian.

Oh... oh!

Oh, are they finally making
more than one at a time?

That's adorable.

Well, considering the current situation,

I think that's probably wise.

You know, when the original
painting was destroyed,

it struck me as such a Librarian move,

but I brush it off as nostalgia.

Power, focus, effect.

Have they taught you that?

I bought immortality with
the power of my own vanity.

I wondered,

what could I buy with the
vanity of hundreds more?

So I made a place for the
most vain, self-involved people

and voilà, a picture
that can never be destroyed

because there are always more
little models to take the place

of those who are lost.
That's not the picture.

That's just how I display it.

No, the picture's in the cloud.

It's a lovely word, isn't it?

The cloud.

The cloud,

where all our dreams reside.

Now I shall my leave.

Delay me, and I will kill her,

and whoever takes her place,

and then the next.

We have to stop him.

He'll kill Cassandra.

Switch us out.

Yeah, okay, I can do that.

Uh, you should only be affected by

what he does from now on.

Oh, finally, I...

Oh! Ohh, what is that?

Welcome to the world's fastest hangover.

- Ohh!
- So I could just destroy the cloud...

No, no, there's too much magic power.

The backlash will kill everybody.

You need to replace them.

Is that drunk Cassandra talking or...

Listen to me.

Replace the other pictures, Ezekiel.

Okay, uh, get him to the,
uh, to the holding area.

That's where everyone's taking selfies.

Geotagging, graphics from
the nearest cell towers.

I can do this. I think.

Oh!

There's a woman following me.

Wipe her.

- Baird! Baird!
- Aah! Aah!

Go! Stop him!

- Do it again.
- Mnh-mnh.

Do it. Do it.

Huh? Huh?

Come on, you can do better than that.

No, no, I just wanna go in the club.

Jeez.

I can combine these
photographs from downstairs

to create a whole new picture.

Shh.

You know...

I throw you off this roof, you die,

but you also die if I fall back off myself.

It's kind of a win/win for me.

You can't win.

It's not about winning, though.

It's about surviving.

Stop right there, Librar...

Ohh. You're the Guardian.

Well, stop or you die, Guardian.

My job is to die.

Yes, but I'll still be alive.

You'll die, but I'll win.

Thought you said it wasn't about winning.

Stop.

Oh, you are good.

Most Guardians lack the
nuance you have and the beauty.

But believe me when I say,

you move one more inch,
and I will go backwards,

and you will die.

Alone,

like all Guardians.

Because you are the faceless ones,

the nameless ones.

Just "Guardian."

Hello, Dorian.

Goodness me.

You've gotten, uh...

...silver. Suits you.

- It's over, Dorian.
- Oh, let me guess.

Your little Librarians are
trying to replace my image

with the picture. Doesn't
quite work that way.

We're aware of that. Your
cursed image only works

because of how much you love your...

It's a gift, not a curse.

Eternal youth. Eternal life.

Any sin, any vice.

You can't feel.

You don't pay the price,
but you can't feel it either.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. Eternal
life in a numb chase.

That is why I hate you people so much.

You can feel, and instead you just watch.

You take mortality for granted
and so you don't deserve it.

I would burn through a million of you

for five seconds of feeling.

Let us help you. This is your opportunity.

We have amazing technology.

We can, perhaps, lift this curse,

give you back your morality.

But I would age.

I would die.

That would be the price.

Grow old and hideous, like you?

Ouch.

I go over, she dies,

and you dare not stop me
for fear of hurting another.

I go on forever.

Well, perhaps not.

Portrait of Colonel Eve Baird,

made up of you.

Pfft. Ugh!

Well done.

Worst... plan... ever.

Yeah, well...

Ah, Colonel Baird?

For future reference,

the reason we didn't know about Dorian...

he had been at his game a very long time,

and the Clipping Book can
only warn us of new threats.

Add another thing to

the "giant holes in our defense" list.

Why does the hangover last
so much longer than the party?

It's nature's way of
making sure you understand

there's always a price.

All right. That's it.

That's all of Dorian's
hard drives, magic books.

Thank you, gentlemen.

How you doin'?

I've been hit harder.

Yeah, well, I was... I was holding back.

I don't know. Was it his
left? He drops his left.

Trust me, I was holding back.

I'm just saying.

Thanks.

Thanks for saving me.
Don't make it a habit.

Saving you guys is my job.

Yeah. Well...

Well, being a Guardian means

you have to sacrifice yourself for us.

I mean, look at... look at
the history of this joint.

It's the Librarians who die.

Maybe that's why we were chosen.

What do you mean?

- Well, Cassandra...
- Brain grape,

which I might actually prefer
at this moment to the headache.

Stone's absence of family
or any real mates at all.

- Hey.
- And my anonymity.

I have no ties to anyone or
anything in the real world.

We're all completely expendable.

- Good pep talk.
- I know. Tacos?

- If you're buying, I'm in.
- Already waiting.

Do tacos help hangovers?

Well, they certainly don't hurt.

Well, it seems like these Librarians

are well on their way to
solving that particular mystery

as to why they were chosen.

I think it very important
you do the same...

for the battle to come.

Because, you know, at the end of the day,

there's a big difference
between image and identity.

Eve?

Tacos... not helping.

I'll hold your hair.