Doom Patrol

Previously on Doom Patrol...

I must've seen this ad 100 times as a girl.

It's like he just walked out of the comic book.

The Hero of the Beach is Flex Mentallo.

The machine's taking over. And I can't stop it.

I just found out Flex Mentallo has a wife named Dolores.

She's old as fuck, but she's still alive.

You're the genius who got a talking street

to tell us that Flex is the key to finding the Chief.

- You must be Dolores. - Look at my elbow.

The Bureau of Normalcy.

I was one of their assets.

- For years, they tortured me. - Where?

Welcome to the Ant Farm.

Let me out!

Hey, buddy? You're looking for a way out? Trying to escape?

- Who're you? - 722.

It is an absolute pleasure to be

- in your presence again, Trainor. - Forsythe.

Your friends are getting free,

but you're the last piece.

Under certain conditions, these nanites...

they can go rogue.

- There would be nothing left of your son. - - Your point?

You made me this. A monster.

Oh, wow. Look, it's Flex Mentallo.

Hi, Flex.

Hi, Dolores.

Morning, Flex. How's it going?

- Gentlemen. - Hi, Dolores.

- Here you go, my dear. - Oh.

How you doin'?

"Our hometown hero, Flex Mentallo,

has done it again, folks."

Oh, boy.

Here we go.

"Dr. Saucer's attempted robbery of the local aquarium

was thwarted by our very own

Man of Muscle Mystery."

"He made short work of the dastardly dish-head

by manipulating the vibrational wavelengths

of his magnificent muscles."

"From the bottom of our hearts,

this town thanks you, Mr. Mentallo."

My dear man,

perfect as your body is,

your best flex will always be your smile.

That laugh lights me up, Dolly.

It was all dark before you.

- You're the light of my life. - Mmm.

Help. Help! Someone help!

Someone help!

Help me, please!

Oh, no.

What seems to be the trouble, young man?

That's right,

it's me, Flex Mentallo, Man of Muscle Mystery.

How can I be of service?

Ah. I see.

That is troubling.

Hmm.

I think we could do something about that.

Here, kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty...

That's a good kitty.

Oh, look at you. So fuzzy, cozy kitty.

Target acquired.

The miscreations have taken control.

I need every man still standing to gear up!

This is about containment now!

Dad?

Dad, wake up.

I killed him.

I...

He's still alive.

But we have to get him out of here.

Jane, tell Flit to do the thing.

- "Tell" her? - Oh, boy.

Jesus Christ. You know what I mean!

Sorry if I missed the subtext of your incredibly blunt directive.

Why don't you mansplain it to me?

If there ever was a time for you to let something go,

this is that time!

Not how it works, dude.

Come on! We need to get the fuck out of here, Jane!

Please don't kill me!

Say...

Do I know you?

But we're not supposed to leave our rooms without permission.

Hey!

- Hey! My clicker! - Guys, he's loosing blood.

Or did you forget about that?

Who the fuck are you?

Well, you sure do swear a lot.

722?

You almost look...

But it couldn't be you, could it?

- Jane, would you please talk to Flit? - -What is it, Rita?

Take away the ratty beard and the baggy jumpsuit,

and I swear he looks just like Flex Mentallo.

From Mentall-O's cereal?

From the funny book Danny gave us.

If we don't leave right now, we ain't fucking leaving!

Stop those abominations! Go!

- Jane! - Everybody grab on.

Stop those abominations!

Balls!

Thank you. Is that so fuckin' hard?

Got it.

Um... where am I?

Also, does anyone else feel, um,

a little pukey?

- Where did you take them? - The hospital.

You just left them there?

As opposed to?

Vic can't be alone right now.

He's fragile. And possibly psychotic.

Who... Who is Vic?

- Now it's Flitapalooza. - Now he's not alone.

What a mess.

No. No.

Guys, we actually did something right.

We went to rescue Vic, and we motherhumping did it.

Up top!

He nearly beat his father to death.

And that's terrible.

Really, really fucking terrible.

I don't think it should tar our accomplishment.

We saved a superhero.

Us. The fuck-ups.

I think we deserve a small pat on the back for that.

And we found Flex Mentallo.

He's some kinda clue to finding Niles, right?

So it's not one, but two things we nailed. Whoo!

Let's hear it. Yeah! Whoo!

Who's Flex Mentallo?

You are.

Am I?

God damn it.

You know, I'm feeling a bit pukey myself.

Think I'll go lay down.

Look, we're not attached at the hip anymore, okay?

You don't have to be everywhere I am.

Look, it's nothing personal. I'm just tired.

And it's a little hard to sleep with a six-foot nightlight...

How do you like your suit, Captain Trainor? Comfortable?

It weighs a ton and smells like a chemical fire.

But on the bright side there's plenty of room

to flail around when you electrocute me.

See, we took that very issue into consideration

while we were designing it.

We're going to take a break with that treatment

in favor of something new.

What?

The being inside you

has refused to evidence itself

since that first encounter.

What are you gonna do to me?

What the hell is that thing?

Is something supposed to happen?

Oh, it's happening.

You see, this device produces a frequency

imperceptible to human ears.

But to your luminescent friend? Well,

in theory, it should be giving him one doozy of a headache.

Tell me, Captain Trainor,

can you hear it screaming inside of you?

I can't say that I do.

But if you wanna try your hand at torturing it

instead of me for a while, then be my guest.

Ah, ah, ah.

What do you think would happen to you

if your host dies, hmm?

I didn't want to commence this particular experiment just yet,

but I might be persuaded otherwise.

Good.

I expect the next time that I ask to see you...

I won't be left to wait.

Hey, pal, you okay in there?

What? Who the hell are you?

Sounded like you were screaming bloody murder.

No. No, that wasn't me.

I don't mean nothing by it. It's just...

Well, it sounded bad is all.

I'm not embarrassed. I'm stating a fact.

I was unconscious. The...

The screaming was probably from...

Wait.

- You could hear it? - And then some.

Is there something in there with you?

So to speak.

Look, I don't feel like talking anymore, okay?

Well, say, pal, uh, what's your name?

721.

Your real name.

Doesn't matter.

Sounds like you've been in here a while.

I tried to keep track of the days at first, but...

it just made things worse.

Well, I'm not planning on sticking around here long enough to find out.

Here, have a look.