Cybermen bring Crane before Lumic, calling him "unprogrammed." Lumic whines that he thought Crane was "one of the faithful," and Crane lies: "My EarPod must've malfunctioned. For which I apologize." Lumic stares at him, one corner of the set dressing sticking out between his teeth. Crane steps closer: "I'd like to request an upgrade, sir. I've seen the future, and it's copyright Cybus Industries." Nice! "Sign me up." Lumic reapprises him: "A willing volunteer." I love how the Doctor came up with that same defense, and it's working even on Lumic. "You've known me a long time, sir," Crane tells him. "Quite a team, you and me." I don't know if it's pain, or craziness, or more bizarre acting, but Lumic's face twists in a mockery of a smile. "I've been with you all the way, but believe me, sir. Knowing you so well, I know exactly what to do." Crane lunges forward and rips out Lumic's breathing tubes, against weak protest. He smashes Lumic's life-support, and parts of Lumic's wonderful chair explode. Lumic begs the Cybermen for aid, and they jump to it, smacking Crane across the room. "Die, you!" says Crane, but they don't. A Cyberman snaps his neck and tosses him away. And Lumic continues to beg for help. And the genie outside the bottle says, "You are in pain. We can remove pain forever." Temptation as usual, for this show: remove pain, stop feeling, go to sleep, change your universe for the worse. Lumic protests that he's not ready, wheezing and gasping, but they aren't designed for that kind of thinking: "We will give you immortality." And Lumic, at the site of his own murder, screams weakly at them: "I told you, I will upgrade only with my last breath!" And the Cyberman solves the equation for π: "Then breathe no more." All the way back around to inhuman again. The Cybermen wheel Lumic out, his shouts growing weaker.
Jake runs back to where the Doctor, Rose, and Pete are waiting. "The whole City's on watch," he tells them. "Hundreds of Cybermen all down the Thames!" Mickey approaches from another direction, not answering Jake's joyful cry, not meeting their eyes. Knowing he's lost the better half. "Which one are you?" asks Jake: fearful, angry, hopeful, sharp. He knows but he doesn't know; it's all over Mickey's face. "I'm sorry. The Cybermen, he couldn't..." Jake begins to scream: "Are you Rickey? Are you Rickey?" But Rose knows -- she's the Jake of this other world, after all, and she knows her boys: "Mickey, that's you, isn't it?" He nods. He's ashamed. Ashamed just to be who he is, because it's not good enough. Rose throws her arms around him, seeing that old look again. Jake doesn't speak, or move. Mickey gives it a shot: "He tried. He was running..." And Jake goes running. And Mickey follows after: "There was too many of them!" Jake begs him to stop, be still, be silent, return counterclockwise to the point where this isn't happening, but the enemy's gate is down: "There was nothing I could do." And Jake spins on him; both men are weeping and shaking. "I said just shut it," snaps Jake. "Don't even talk about him. You're nothing." Mickey cries, because he knows Jake is right. "Nothing," Jake says again. And the Doctor does his Albion best: "We can mourn him when London is safe. But now, we move on." The Doctor doesn't know shit about the etymology of mourning, not really. He talks a good game about how "everything ends," but he'll never really know, never feel it in his body. He'll never know the pain of a world tearing apart, how the twin is taken, how the better half of Jake and Mickey both is ripped away. Snatched in blue. Burned off. Crossed the breach: "Forgive my grief for one removed, Thy creature, whom I found so fair. I trust he lives in thee, and there I find him worthier to be loved."