All language subtitles for iZombie.S03E01.BDRip.X264-REWARD

Previously on iZombie...

Turns out the party at Max
Rager tonight is a lock-in.

Because of their new
Super Max drink.

We're going to break
into Max Rager

and free Drake and the other
zombies in the basement.

A party could be the perfect
opportunity to break in and save them.

Super Max!

A massive zombie outbreak means
never having to say you're sorry.

Major! Come on!

Get some!

Vivian Stoll,
Fillmore-Graves Enterprises.

I'm the new owner here.

Drake?

Someday soon, Seattle's gonna be
the capital of the zombie homeland,

and a lot of people aren't
gonna wanna see that happen.

So are you with us

or against us?

Okay, we all have to get
our stories straight.

Here's mine. Max Rager employees
were knocking back cans of Super Max

and just lost their minds,
began attacking each other.

Vaughn's armed guards started spraying
them down with bullets. Chaos ensued.

We should go with something
close to the truth.

Zombie outbreak?

Major had information
about Chaos Killer victims

locked in a secret basement lab.

We used the party as a cover
to check it out

and we found the
Chaos Killer victims.

You guys are the heroes here.

Not sure that'll be
the takeaway.

We're taking the survivors to the
medical facility on our campus.

We'll debrief them, make sure
they're all on the same page

before they have to talk to
the press or the authorities.

You know, I hate to rain on
the parade here,

but there's probably
100 dead bodies downstairs.

- Forensic evidence will be everywhere.
- Move, move, move, move!

Get cover!

Fire in the hole.

Go, go!

We think of everything.

So all four dead men were
shot by Mr. Deaux here?

That's right.

Just comes in
through the back window,

blasting away,
drops every one of them?

Yep.

Why you?

What do you mean, "Why me"?

I mean, you're
a district attorney.

And he's a stool pigeon.

Why would Mr. Boss
think he could draw out.

Mr. Deaux by kidnapping you?

Well... I guess...

It may have gotten
back to Mr. Boss

that I had developed,
um, feelings

for Miss Charles.

- And those feelings were...
- Unreciprocated.

Yeah, but, boy...

Talk about grand gestures.

"Unreciprocated," she said.

You didn't get that down.

Only because I can't spell it.

So, while this
gun battle is going on,

you're sitting outside in
the car. Do I have that right?

He was supposed to signal.

Yeah...

Probably just as well.

A Seattle PD employee shouldn't
get wrapped up in all of this.

Talk about bad publicity.

No, there can't be any
publicity on this.

Four dead bodies in the office of
Seattle's preeminent crime lord...

Well, Mr. Deaux has given 100
hours of testimony against Mr. Boss.

It's imperative we keep
his name out of this.

Call the mayor
if you need a cover.

Yeah, of course.

'Cause I've got the mayor
on speed dial.

Oh, I know the number.

You ready?

Shoot.

My boyfriend is dead.

I shot him in the head
four hours ago.

The only thing holding
me together

is that I'm rolling on the stoic
brain of a soldier of fortune.

But then, turns out we've
all had a hellish night.

Peyton, kidnapped by
Seattle's criminal kingpin,

saved by a new amnesiac
version of Blaine,

which doesn't seem to be
sitting well with Ravi.

Major, suffering because
he promised a zombie

named Natalie she'd wake
to a new and beautiful world.

And now he can't find her.

And poor Clive.

Forty-eight hours ago, he had no
idea that zombies were a real thing.

What I need to tell him may
send him over the edge.

There's just one thing
I don't understand.

Why would Mr. Boss think that
Blaine would show up to save Peyton?

The important thing
is that Peyton's safe.

Sounds to me like Miss Charles here
was romantically involved with Blaine.

What?

I'm sorry. Was that not it?

I've got a proposal.

- You and Blaine?
- Major. This is important.

I propose that from
this day forward,

no big secrets between
the five of us.

From now on, we're all
on the same team,

working in the same direction.

I'm a zombie. Major is a zombie.

- Peyton's sleeping with Blaine.
- Slept with. Once.

Is it too late to say
that I kind of liked

being out of the loop
on some of this?

It's in the spirit of this new honesty
that I want to tell you about a moment

I shared with Vivian Stoll.

Wait, who's Vivian?

The private
military contractor lady.

The one that saved their asses.

Right. And when I went back
down there,

she and her mercenaries were
snacking on Rob Thomas' brain.

They were zombies too?

Yeah. And she knew
that I was one.

Well, you don't do much
to hide it.

She told that me that
Seattle was going to be

the capital of
a zombie homeland.

A zombie...

People weren't going
to want to see that happen.

Yeah, I could see a few
close-minded people objecting.

She wanted to know if
I was with her or against her.

With or against her how?
What does that even mean?

Well, I think it means that
Fillmore-Graves wants to

make Seattle a
zombie-friendly city.

"Zombie-friendly"?

Like, "Eat all the brains you
want, we'll make more"?

I didn't get details.

There was a bit of a rush to get out
of the building before they blew it up.

I don't think I can
roll with this.

I mean, what if in the history
of the Zombie Wars

I'm the human who had
a chance to say something,

and I sat on my hands?

I mean, bright side,

the writer of the history
of the Zombie Wars

will very likely be a zombie,

and you'll be viewed as a hero.

I'm not saying that
we should just roll with it.

We should go visit
Vivian tomorrow.

You, me, Major.

We'll find out exactly
what she means

about Seattle being
a zombie homeland.

And then we can decide what we
want to do with that information.

Fine.

I'm in.

Don E.?

Where is it, Blaine?

- Where's what?
- You know what, where's the money?

- What money are you talking about?
- The Lucky U money!

- Did someone shoot you...
- No, no.

Don't play dumb with me
anymore, I know that it's a lie,

this whole memory-loss thing.

Honestly, Don E.

Nothing has made
sense to me lately.

You know when I figured it out?

- Figured what out?
- I'd just been shot.

Several times.

I mean, zombie or not,
bullets hurt.

And I'm lying there, praying
that Mr. Boss' dimwit henchman

doesn't shoot me in the head.

And then suddenly it
all became clear.

You made all this happen.

All of what?

Everything!

I don't know when
you got the idea,

but I'm guessing it's when you
took the cure, and it worked.

And then you weren't
a zombie anymore,

and then you realized,
"Wait, if there's a cure,"

"then I don't have
a business anymore."

And so then you thought, what's
a side effect no one would want?

Total memory loss.
That's the ticket.

But keeping your business
wasn't the only upside, was it?

No.

That smokin' district attorney
is never gonna fall in love

with old drug-dealing,
murderin' Blaine.

But what about the new,
improved version?

I mean, fair enough. It's fine.

If you'd just told me,
I would've been on board.

Good on ya, man.

They're playing checkers, my
boy Blaine is playing Monopoly.

So I'm clear,

this is my business?

You and Chief had me going out
and getting food orders for you.

I was your little gofer.

Oh, you're good,
you're so convincing.

You deserve an Emmy.
I mean, you're TV good,

let's not get carried away.

Daniel Day Lewis ain't
shaking in his boots.

You had me mopping up.

You'd send me out of the room when
you and Chief were talking business.

Stop it, Blaine, or I'll
crack open your skull

and feast on those
brains of yours,

see what it feels like to be
that freaking devious.

Tell me where my money is,

and you'll never see me again.

Well, if I was the owner,

wouldn't it make it my money?

Chief is dead.

I got shot.

That is our money.

I don't want to sound
like your mom,

but where'd you last see it?

- Chief had it.
- I'd start there.

See ya around, Blaine. I quit.

Look, I know it's a little
fuzzy in there,

but I'm pretty sure

I must've had a two-week
notice policy in place here.

Fine. I'll waive it.

But don't expect a
letter of recommendation.

It's going to be awkward.

I'm going to have to talk
to all the people I kidnapped

and drill down on whether
they saw anything

that might get me to Natalie.

Uh, Major...

A hero's return.

It's gonna get bad now.

Now that you've been cleared.

You think?

I was hoping to talk to you
about that girl, Natalie.

If you remember anything,
call me back on this number.

- Thanks.
- There's Clive.

You can't kill me, I can't die.

You can't kill me, I can't die.

Unless you shoot me in the eye.

Unless you shoot me in the eye.

- Sound off.
- One, two.

- Sound off.
- Three, four.

You think those were
all zombies?

We said 0900.

It's 9:00 right now.

If you're early, you're on time,

if you're on time, you're late.

Just so I understand...

If we can find you two some new
non-soldier brains, you won't be like this?

Depends on the brains.

If we ate the brains of a
train conductor, for example,

similar issue.

We should head in.

Maybe I'll run into a normal
person we can murder.

The Chaos Killer victims were
held in a secret basement lab

at Max Rager headquarters

and used as guinea pigs
to test the Super Max formula.

Each victim that we spoke to
claims to have crossed swords

with deceased Max Rager CEO
Vaughn Du Clark.

I'd told him I was going to buy

a couple hundred thousand
shares in the company,

but after all the violent
incidents caused by Max Rager,

I backed out.

Next thing I know, I wake up
in an underground cell.

A lot of us ended up down
there for the same reason.

- They're here.
- Oh, great. Send them in.

Hello!

Hello, come in!

Have a seat.

You been watching the news?

So far so good,

the Chaos Killer victims are
coming through like champs.

I downloaded Major and Clive
on what you told me,

about Seattle being
a zombie homeland.

Huh.

I'm guessing I'm the only
non-zombie in the loop.

Oh, no.

Far from it.

We probably have a couple dozen
human employees who are fully briefed.

But those are humans
I know and trust.

Clive has already witnessed
a full-scale zombie outbreak.

That's a genie that can't
really be put back in a bottle.

We want to know what you mean when you
talk about Seattle being a zombie homeland.

How can we know
if we're with you

when we don't even really know
what we're talking about?

Fair enough.

We here at Fillmore-Graves
are preparing for D-Day.

Discovery Day,

the day when humans, en masse,

learn of our existence.

What do you think
happens then, Liv?

I thought it would be in our best
interests if it didn't get out.

Maybe it won't,
but it probably will.

So what happens when it does?

What happens when humans learn

that there's a few hundred
brain-eating,

highly-contagious zombies
in their midst?

Do you think they'll ask us
to raise our hands

and then they're gonna do their best
to help us survive and assimilate?

Do you think they'll help us get
the brains we need to survive?

Where do you get your brains?

You see what I'm talking about?

It's a touchy subject.

There are several crematorium
owners here in the Pacific Northwest

who are paying cash

for houses in upscale
neighborhoods for doing nothing more

than de-braining the deceased
and sending those brains our way.

But nobody's answered
my question.

What happens on D-Day?

They exterminate us.

Oh, check out the big brain
on Major.

We here at Fillmore-Graves

do not plan on going
gently into that good night.

What do you plan on doing?

Well, for a start, we're
well-armed and well-trained.

We're also the proud owners
of the formula for Super Max.

No one else gets it.

Max Rager is no longer.

And with Super Max,
we are faster, stronger,

and have more endurance than the
humans who would annihilate us.

Can we get a straight answer
on what you mean when you say,

"Seattle is gonna be the
capital of a zombie homeland"?

Are you declaring war?

See this dot?

It's an island, and we own it.

"Zombie Island."

Sounds like the name of a
summer blockbuster, doesn't it?

You're moving all zombies
to their own island?

Our own island, Liv.

Show some team spirit.

We're building
the infrastructure now.

We're at least a year
and a half away,

but it can hold all of us.

We can self-segregate.

This here,

that's going to be
the schoolhouse.

- "Schoolhouse"?
- There are zombie children?

Why should that be a surprise?

Let's take a walk.

How did you become a zombie?

My husband, Harrison Graves,

co-founder of the company,
got infected first.

A zombie scratched him,
then extorted him for brains.

$25,000 a month.

Harrison was going to leave me,

he didn't want to infect me,

and he didn't want me to have
to lead a sexless life.

So one night,
while he was sleeping,

I took his hand
and scratched myself.

I was more willing to live as a
zombie than to live without him.

Where's your husband now?

Well, he figured out a way
to get brains on his own

and told the guy
who was extorting him

that he no longer
needed his services.

A week later, he failed
to come home from work.

I never saw him again.

I'm so sorry.

I never met the zombie who
did it, but one day I will,

and he'll have to learn
that there's a price to pay

for zombie-on-zombie crime.

How did everyone else at
Fillmore-Graves become zombies?

A dozen of our soldiers were
sent to Equatorial Kundu

to evacuate translators and guides
who'd been friendly to the U.S.

My guys were fighting block-by.
Block in a rebel neighborhood

when General Masoud detonated a
biological weapon in the sky above them.

My guys showed no symptoms
until they arrived back here

just in time for our
company retreat,

something we do every July 4th.

Forty-eight hours
into the retreat,

every one of my
employees is sick,

people are going to die.

So you told them how you could
save them all with one scratch?

You see what great lengths I'll
go to to protect these people.

They're my family.

I'm mother to them all.

- So all of these kids are...
- Undead.

- Hello, Miss Vivian!
- Hello, children.

- Clive?
- Wally?

Hey.

So this is where
you've been hiding out.

Wait. Are you one of us now?

Wally, we need you to join us.

You better head back to class.

I'll give Miss Vivian my
information to give to your mom.

We'll get together.

Promise?

Yeah, I promise.

You should tan and dye.

Wally...

How do you...

His family lived
in my building for a while.

You mind?

Of course.

That biological weapon that the
general dropped on his own people?

Yeah?

The people who were infected
developed lesions on their faces,

all over their bodies.

They were incredibly contagious.

And the people who weren't infected
became so terrified of those who were,

they started shooting
the infected on sight.

That's what's gonna happen
when the people of Seattle

realize there are zombies
living among them.

You really should tan and dye.

We're trying to keep
a secret here.

Super Max-powered zombies
armed to the gills,

ready to do battle once
they're discovered?

And I'm not supposed
to say anything?

Aren't we the "No Secrets" club?

We're the "No Secrets
Between Us" club.

I think what they're
doing here is smart.

I mean, do we really believe
there's going to be a

"let's talk things out with
the zombies" phase

once the human population
learns we exist?

- I do.
- Once they hear that we eat brains...

An army of trained zombie
mercenaries ready

to defend themselves once
humans discover they exist?

They really seem to believe
humanity's first impulse

will be to exterminate zombies.

Nothing in here is going
to hit the spot.

I have a couple of
brains in stock.

I'd rather stay on Janko brain.

The man is ice cold.

His soldier brain is the only
thing preventing me

from falling apart
grieving for Drake.

It's going to wear off soon.

I know.

I can already feel it.

I wish I had some
hard-as-nails soldier brain.

Why's that?

Because I'm spiraling,
and I can't break out of it.

Spiraling about what?

Peyton.

And Blaine.

And my sitting out in the car

while Blaine was cowboying up,
saving the day.

And I have this movie

in my head of the object
of my affection,

my precious, dear, sweet,

smart Peyton in
the throes of passion

with oily,
teen-murdering Blaine.

Get over it.

You're not an ideal shoulder
to lean on

when rolling on soldier brain.

You called her "my precious."

You don't plan on throwing
her in Mount Doom, do you?

It had to be Blaine.

The world is mourning the
passing of Rob Thomas today,

and nobody's got
you covered like 98.7.

This tweet just came
in from Carlos Santana.

"Heaven just got
a little bit smoother."

"Hashtag, stop the violence."

♪ Man, it's a hot one

Blaine?

Down here.

What a pleasant surprise.

As a young girl,
I never would have expected

I'd be surrounded by
so many dead bodies.

Yeah.

I wonder what I thought
I'd end up doing.

Surely, it wasn't this.

I've got good news.

Mr. Boss made it through
customs in Montenegro.

He had a fake passport,
but we have a photo.

We know he's there.

They just don't extradite
to the U.S. in Montenegro.

Which is probably
why he chose it.

Exactly.

Nothing to worry about.

That's just
the cremation chamber

reminding me Mrs. Voelker
has returned to dust.

Okay,

I'll admit it.

I'd be happier if Mr. Boss
had been captured,

or, better yet, killed.

I mean, intellectually, it
wouldn't make any sense for him

to try and take either
one of us out now.

We found so much evidence
in his file,

we could put him away for
30 years on tax crimes alone.

Still, I'm so...

Jumpy.

Hey.

You were just held hostage
by a group of thugs.

That's only natural.

Which gets us to why
I'm really here.

I could've just told you all
that information on the phone

but what I wanted
to do was thank you.

For saving my life.

You don't need to thank me.

I'm the one that should be
apologizing to you.

I mean, you were only
in that situation

because, for reasons that
are unclear to me,

a crime lord wanted me dead.

So, please,

if you're ever
feeling jumpy or whatever,

call me.

I'll come over.

I owe you.

We can play cards
or something. I don't know.

If you had your memory, you'd
understand how ironic your offer is.

Calling Blaine DeBeers for
comfort and protection, huh?

Yeah, it's been made clear
to me I wasn't the nicest guy.

Listen, a few things have been
said over the past couple of days

that led me
to believe that we were...

Um...

Yeah?

Were we a couple?

Sir?

This, this,
and a large Americano, please.

Large Americano!

How many of them are there?

Seventeen.

Seventeen doses of the cure.

But now we're looking at
a few hundred zombies.

- Can you make more?
- Not at this time.

We're out of the key ingredient,

and we don't know
how to get more.

So why haven't Liv
and Major taken the cure?

Side effects include severe
retrograde amnesia.

Like Blaine.

"Retrograde"? That's like...

- Everything, isn't it?
- Not quite.

One's procedural memories
remain intact,

but everything else,
episodic memories,

autobiographical memories,
vanish.

That's the choice for
Liv and Major, then?

Take the cure,
return to human form,

but suffer this
retrograde amnesia?

Yeah.

Though it's a bit more
pressing for Major.

He is on borrowed time.

You think the memory-loss side
effect of Cure Two is bad?

The side effect of Cure One,
the cure Major took, is death.

If his response is
like our test rat,

his lungs will begin
filling with fluid.

He'll suffer a terminal
case of pneumonia.

Or he can take Cure Two...

And lose all his memories.

Maybe.

I don't have any way
to recreate the cure,

so I started taking
a new approach.

What if I could come
up with a formula

that could reverse memory loss?

- It's all right. You don't need to show me...
- Too late.

This is my jam.

So, the eJectrons in
this sodium solution,

when charged by
a positive cathode,

release stress hormones
that stimulate the amygdala

and strengthen the signal sent to
neurons required for memory storage.

That's not how I'd do it.

I'm close to full
memory restoration.

For 17 lucky zombies.
What about the rest?

I don't like thinking
about that.

Well, who'll decide
who gets the cure?

I don't like thinking
about that, either.

Ravi! Clive!

- Good, you're here.
- Something wrong?

I'm driving to work and I'm
flipping around on the radio dial,

and I land on a promo for
the new Chuck Burd show.

He's got a new show?

He's turned conspiracy theorist,

one of those "9/11 was
an inside job" crackpots.

According to the promo,
he's about to speak live

to what he claims
is an eyewitness

to the Max Rager massacre.

Who, they claim, has an
unbelievable story to tell

that will shake our faith
in our institutions.

Well, any idea who this
eyewitness might be?

None.

We need to stop that interview.

Why didn't you drive
straight there?

I don't have a badge or a siren.

It's just up there on the right.

Welcome, Chuck Burd Nation!

Gather around patriots,
truth-seekers and those who believe

we need to reset
the tree of liberty.

And we all know
what that sound is,

we have a bombshell today,
UpChuckers.

- This is it.
- With me in studio right now,

is Billy Cook,

eyewitness to the bloodbath
at the Max Rager headquarters,

and what he is about to
impart upon us, my friends,

is going to confirm everything.

Your government
is plotting against you.

We are all slaves.

Slaves!

The only thing is
that some of us

just don't know it yet.

Billy,

if you could tell us who you are

and what you saw.

I'm a security guard.

And I was working the door
at the Max Rager party

the night of the massacre.

I thought that no one made
it out alive.

No one except for, you know,

the quote-unquote "kidnapped"
one-percenters.

I was never inside,

but I just saw what happened
through the front gate.

Describe what you saw
to us, please.

Half the people were
running scared,

running for their lives.

The other half were
chasing them.

Their eyes were red, and...

When they caught up, they...

I know that this is hard
to talk about.

When they caught up to 'em,
they tore them apart,

they started bashing
in their skulls.

And then they
started eating the...

"Eating"? Eating what?
Eating what? Eating what?

Eating the what? Eating
the what? Billy, with me.

Eating what?

No, no, no, no, no.

Brains.

Yes.

Hey, that's the cop
that was there that night.

How'd he get out alive?

Let the record show that the
officer in question is trying

to prevent our friend
Billy from speaking.

What is the government
trying to hide?

What does the government
have to hide?

My hunch?
The feds were bent on creating

super soldiers and instead,

they hatched some sort
of latent bloodlust

or brainlust in
their test subjects.

At some point, they had
to cover up their mistake.

But what does Chuck Burd
Nation think?

He's closer to the truth
than we might like.

This is the same guy who says the
government is killing honeybees

to intentionally create
a food shortage.

Chuck, aren't we
ignoring the obvious?

It sounds to me like the start
of the zombie apocalypse.

Whoa, Dean.
That's a bold statement...

You sure it's not best if we
go to someone we trust,

someone high up,
and tell them about zombies?

Explain to them that zombies
are just normal people

who eat brains.

You told Major you thought
humans could deal with the news.

Some could.

Not these people.

See, I've got front-row seats.
I live next door to zombies.

Now, now, now, no one
here is saying "zombies".

Straight up, Chuck.

My dog was digging
in the neighbor's trash,

and when I was cleaning up,
I found brains in there.

They were in these tubes,
kind of like those...

Liv.

Liv, it's gonna be okay.

Like you said, no one but the
lunatic fringe listens to this show.

It's not that, Clive.

This brain I'm on
is wearing off.

I shot my boyfriend, Clive.

He's dead because of me.

He was already dead.

What you did was merciful.

You know how cops deal
with this sort of thing?

Lindsey, what a blast
from the past.

When's the last time
we saw each other,

graduation?

Yeah, how's Philly?

Uh, things here? I mean,
they're never boring.

You sound weird. What's up?

I do, I haven't tweeted in
the last year and a half.

I think my 24 followers have
given up on me.

Really?

No, no. Uh, I'll...
I'll check it out.

I'm glad you called.

Volunteers?

Come on now.
Just a few more steps.

Ravi. Always workin' late.

Oh, my office?

I could take you
to your apartment, Liv.

My car is here.

I'm gonna sleep
it off here and...

Shower later.

Thanks for listening
to me all night, Clive.

I'm glad you know I'm a zombie.

Remember this...

I'm alive, because
you did what you did.

I know it hurts right now,

but try to remember that

when you feel like beating
yourself up.

The brain wore off, so...

Yeah.

I'm taking off.

Enjoy.

- You've reached Ravi's phone.
- Leave me a message.

Listen, Ravi.

Um, I'm kind of
freaking out over here.

I just learned that someone's
tweeting me this stuff.

Uh, ugly stuff.

Scary stuff. I could really
use your company.

I know you're not happy
with me right now.

Um, I already tried
Liv and Major.

Maybe we could just
talk things out,

I'd like to
at least get it off...

Ravi?

You're still here.

Someone's in good spirits.

Guess who found a job,
a job where no one cares

if you've been publicly accused
of being a serial killer?

Why's Liv sacked
out on your couch?

♪ Set me free,
why don't you babe?

♪ Get out my life,
why don't you babe?

♪ You don't really love me

Hey.

So...

You have a little time for
some Go Fish?

Maybe some Gin Rummy?

No, that's what I'm saying.

Blaine claims he doesn't
remember any of it.

So he doesn't remember
torturing me?

Getting me to redo my will?

Dude, this is Blaine.

He remembers everything.

He's just figured out another
way to screw people over.

The memory loss is an act.

I'd bet my disco stick.

So why am I out of his freezer?

What do you have
in store for me?

You see the last Star Trek movie?

I missed that one, somehow.

It's a good flick.
You should check it out.

In it, Kirk said this thing
that stuck with me.

"The enemy of my enemy"

"is my friend."

That was Kautilya
in The Arthashastra.

Pretty sure it was Kirk
in Star Trek, but...

Don't you get it? The enemy

of my enemy is you.

And you're loaded.

And I've got a plan to rake
in some cash

and stick it to your boy.

And I thought maybe you'd
like to hear my proposal,

Shark Tank style.

As I can't move
and you're well-armed,

I'm all ears.

We start our own brain business.

I've got Blaine's customer list,

and a fingernail made
for scratchin'.

Brilliant in its simplicity.

All I need is
a little start-up cash.

- So?
- I love it.

Yeah, you do.

One problem.

What?

You're thinking too small.

I need some aspirin.

And a new brain.

Is that so, Scarecrow?

Well, I need a new heart.

We're off to see the...

Look at that.
You say it, it happens.

What've you got for
us today, good sir?

Oh, this is a special one. They
found it in the trunk of a car

at the Max Rager
parking structure.

The CDC lady told me to
bring it here to be examined.

- I'm sorry, the who said to...
- Doctor Chakrabarti!

I was so thrilled
when I realized

that I'd be doing this
examination in your morgue.

It's been too long,
my old friend.

Dr. Kupps.

It has...

Well, let's see,
the last time...

I remember.

It was when you told me security
would escort me to my car

because I was being sacked.

But you took it like a man,
and I respect that.

Katty Kupps,
Center for Disease Control.

It's nice to meet you.

Olivia Moore, assistant ME.

Liv, this is my old boss.

- The one who fired me.
- - I gathered.

Well, why don't we put
the body right there

and let's get started, shall we?

With over 100 dead,
someone had to show up

and make sure that
the manic episodes were,

in fact, related
to an energy drink

and not something
a bit more contagious.

Well, the side effects of Max
Rager have been well-documented.

It stands to reason that
a drink called "Super Max"

might create an even greater
rage effect.

Oh, I agree, but...

What does that look like?

I'm not sure.

- You, Miss Moore?
- What does what look like?

That's brain.

In the digestive tract.

Katty, it's been a delight.

I hope you've got
what you needed,

- but I'm afraid there's been a murder.
- Oh, of course.

Run. I can finish up here.

But, Ravi...

It's been three days since
the massacre, right?

Yeah.

Well, doesn't this victim's flesh look
like it's been dead much longer than that?

I mean, if there's any bright side
to Dr. Kupps being the one they sent,

she's the absolute last person
who would conclude there were...

You know, in Seattle.

It's my outside-of-the-box
thinking that got me sacked.

- She never...
- Cavanaugh,

you okay?

It's a rough one in there.

I thought this was Clive's case.

He's handing it off.

I guess he has a connection
to a couple of the victims.

He's inside.

Bodies are in the kitchen,
living room, bedroom.

Shot in the head.

Not much blood.

Bullet to the back of the head.

And he's missing three
fingernails on his right hand.

Max Rager cans stuffed
in each of his coat pockets.

Again, very little blood
for a head shot.

Hot damn it, get some gloves on!

Oh, God. No.

All three victims
shot in the head.

Very little blood.

The adult male's fingernails
removed, his scratching nails.

The Max Rager cans?

A message?

That's what I'm thinking.

They were killed because
they were zombies.

It's a warning shot.

All those people on the radio
talking about brain-eaters...

Humans aren't ready
for the truth, Clive.

Zombies need protection.

They'd never let me stay
on this case, given my...

Connection to Wally.

We can't let Cavanaugh
get close to the truth.

What if this is
the slippery slope?

The spark that takes us
to D-Day?

We can't let that happen.

We'll solve it on our own time.

Someone's going to pay for this.

That I promise.