Previously on iZombie...
We've been investigating the murder of Rebecca Hinton.
She had evidence that Max Rager was causing temporary psychosis.
We know about the memo.
Your product kills people.
Liv, what are you?
Cameron?
This is the guy who took our astronaut brains.
The guy who knows too much.
Your emergency contact. Olivia Moore.
Yeah, she's my sister.
How soon would you be able to start?
Just calm your ass down.
We're not a pizza place. There's no 30-minute-or-less guarantee.
You'll get your astronaut brains when you get them.
Checked his house. I checked his car.
No sign of the brains.
Who is this guy, and why is he all up in our business?
Works at Helton Shelter,
that home for runaways near Nine Trolls.
Or at least he did.
That's a termination letter.
I guess that kid I got my shoes off of must've lived there.
- Maybe he just dumped the brains. - No.
He wouldn't have done that.
He needs them. They're his proof we exist.
"See. Brains."
Let's go see if he's ready to tell us where he's stashed our product, huh?
Hey, buddy.
You remember what you did with our brains?
Kiss my ass.
I love the moxie.
But I'm the Mick Jagger here.
Time is on my side.
She slipped her police protection.
Then? -At 10:42 p.m. 911 dispatch received a call
from room 233 at the Piney Trail Lodge.
It was Teresa.
She didn't get any words out of her mouth,
but she was found clutching the receiver.
Bludgeoned to death.
She was meeting this guy
Cameron, there.
There was a text from Cameron asking her to show up and bring
"the stuff" belonging to this guy Sebastian.
Also deceased. Known murderer, suspected Max Rager fixer.
Cameron said he wanted to use this stuff
to track Sebastian down.
Seems foolhardy.
We do know Sebastian killed our cheerleader Kimber.
And we assume he killed Nate and Kimber
as revenge for running him over and burying him alive.
It would certainly motivate me.
But it's looking like someone else could've killed Nate,
then killed Teresa.
I'm afraid Cameron might already be face-to-face with his maker.
We found his blood in the bed.
Well, let's hope he's on the run and not dead already.
I'll put out an APB.
Let me know if you get anything.
I hope you brought your appetite.
I've met this girl before.
Not to speak ill of the dead,
but she's kind of a snarky little bitch.
I doubt I'll even notice the difference.
Piss off, Nancy Boy.
The prosecution rests.
This Indian mustard you brought in
sucks donkey parts.
A delight as always, Olivia Moore.
Liv! Come here.
Ta-da!
One former zombie rat.
Good as new.
Just think, a few months of observation and testing
and if all goes well,
- this could be you. - Months?
Screw that. I'm ready now.
Need I remind you that our first zombie rat expired
48 hours after receiving the cure?
I don't care.
The man that I wanted to marry
has vowed to kill every last zombie.
And last night my best friend looked at me like I was a monster,
which, incidentally, I am.
I want my life back, Ravi.
I eat brains.
It's disgusting. I am disgusting.
I'll sign a waiver. Just let me do it.
This is all we have.
One dose. Two, perhaps, if we stretch it.
We're completely out of the tainted Utopium.
Right now, I can't replicate it.
But if our little mate here survives,
that'll be the next mission.
Turning you back to your old self
is the primary objective,
but it is vital
that we're able to do the same with all the other zombies we believe are out there.
I suppose.
Rub it in, you smug little...
Move, rat!
I'm such a moron.
I know who's killing these kids.
Max Rager? How do you figure?
In my vision, Teresa was retrieving Sebastian's wallet.
The last time I saw it,
Sebastian was putting the thumb drive
with the incriminating Max Rager inter-office memo in it.
The one that said their product was causing psychotic episodes,
that their most heavy-duty consumers were raging out, killing people.
So you think that's what this is all about?
Getting that thumb drive back?
It adds up.
Max Rager texted Nate from Kimber's phone.
They weren't asking for money,
they were offering money.
Maybe the kids took it, maybe they didn't.
But it looks like Max Rager isn't taking
any chances with witnesses.
We should probably go talk to them.
You think?
I came in on my own. I didn't have to.
- And now this? - You've stated you have
an appetite for human brains.
- What happened to his face? - A boat ran over him.
And he survived? -Well, you know, in a manner of speaking.
Now, the fellow conducting the interview,
he's our former head of research,
he's the man you'll be replacing.
Yes, I read all of Dr. Yeltsin's research, everything you sent me.
It's ground-breaking.
I can't imagine why he's giving it up.
Well, it wasn't exactly his choice.
As you can see, we're still working out the bugs.
But hey, it's science.
You're gonna break a few eggs.
A zombie?
I'm sorry. You're saying this Sebastian is a zombie?
Well, now you're getting into semantics here.
He craves brains, he can't seem to die,
his heart beats once every six seconds.
Yeah, I guess, you know, after awhile,
if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck...
But how did he become...
Well, he claims that he
accidentally sampled the blood of a young woman.
It's a long story. It's a long story.
Anyway, this young woman later revealed herself to be a zombie.
Next thing he knows, he's back from the dead,
he's white as a sheet, tooling for brains.
Vaughn, the police are here.
Just a minute, Hillary.
You know, I'd love to get a look at one of these zombies.
I knew you would!
And that's why I called you in early.
The girl, the zombie that turned Sebastian into one?
She's right outside that door.
She's with Seattle PD. Guess what she does?
Medical examiner.
Who writes this stuff, right?
Hillary, send them in, please.
Okay, hold on. Let me get something straight.
Three teenagers are dead,
and you're suggesting that I'm somehow responsible?
We simply asked if you or anyone else at Max Rager
reached out to Nate Boden
offering a reward for the return of Max Rager company secrets.
But if the subtext is confusing,
yeah, we're suggesting you had something to do with it.
Well, I've been in Milan since our first memorable tete-a-tete.
Oh, you didn't make it back for your assistant's funeral, then?
An assistant bent on leaking trade secrets to the press? No.
Sebastian Myers, the murderer in that case,
worked for you. Personal security, I believe.
Hey! Creepy-Stares-A-Lot.
I'm not on a sex-cam. I can see you.
Now, we let Sebastian go, oh, years ago.
Some drunk snowboarder crashed into me in Sun Valley
and Sebastian nearly beat him to death.
Loyal to a fault, that kid.
I would never root for anybody's death, okay?
But I must admit I did feel a modicum of relief
when I found out that you had run him over in a boat.
It probably saved lives.
He survived that.
Is that right?
And then he was run over by those four joyriding teenagers,
and survived that, too.
A witness claimed he killed the first of those teens
with his bare hands.
Last night at 10:32, the third of those dead teenagers
was beaten to death in a motel room.
Well, I don't mean to do your job for you,
but it sounds like you should be out looking for Sebastian.
Oh, we know where he is.
He's in a drawer at the morgue.
He was dead half an hour before the girl in the motel room.
Oh.
But if you don't mind my asking,
how did he die?
He was stabbed to death.
- By? - Me.
Ah.
Accomplishing what a car and a boat couldn't.
I'd stay on this one's good side.
Excuse me.
Can we back up to what you were saying about Sebastian
being loyal to a fault?
Babineaux.
How long ago?
We'll check it out.
Someone just paid for a tank of gas with Cameron's credit card.
- We gotta move. - Okay, then.
Thanks for coming by, really enjoyed this chat.
Don't be strangers. Reception will validate.
This has got to suck.
So I've been doing a bit of online research,
trying to figure out how long you'll survive in here
before body parts start falling off,
and guess what I discovered?
Most of the pertinent data comes courtesy of the Nazis.
Yeah.
Those Nazis.
Great minds, huh?
They wanted to know
if there was something in Russian genetics
that allowed those commie bastards to survive
Stalingrad winters.
Spoiler alert, there wasn't.
Turns out we all freeze to death roughly the same way.
But I digress.
The point is, they kept meticulous notes.
And thanks to those notes, I can keep you in here alive
and suffering as long as I want.
As long as it takes to get the information I need.
Why are you doing this?
Daddy issues.
Megalomania.
Greed.
Wow.
That felt really good to get off my chest.
Before his untimely demise,
Dr. Yeltsin raved about you and your research,
called you a genius.
If only the FDA thought as highly of it.
Yeah, well, they just don't get the big picture, do they?
- And you're out of pharmaceuticals now. - Mmm-hmm.
We are a beverage company.
Less red tape.
But grander ambitions.
With Super Max,
our consumers will no longer have to sleep.
Exhaustion will be a thing of the past.
Super Max will be an amphetamine,
a steroid, an opioid.
It will be to serotonin
what Milton Hershey was to chocolate.
Dr. Yeltsin brought us close.
You will take us all the way home.
In rare cases, users may develop a taste for brains.
That strikes me as the sort of side effect
that could put a serious dent in sales.
Which is why you're going to isolate and remove
whatever it is in the formula that contributes to the zombie problem.
And as for those zombies who are still
wandering about, well, just leave them to me.
By the time you've completed your task,
there won't be any left to affect our bottom-line.
So, what time was the card swiped?
7:01 a.m.
7:01.
Oh, yeah.
I remember that guy.
Serious BO.
Two soft drinks. Two hot dogs.
He looks nervous, but he doesn't look bloody.
Help me.
They've got him.
And he's running out of time.
Maybe we'll get another hit off Cameron's credit card.
At least we can establish the general direction they're taking him.
Hey, gas station dude?
Maybe next time try noticing something more
about a possible kidnap victim than his wicked funk?
Like, oh, I don't know, maybe the kind of vehicle he got out of.
There you both are.
Nice ball sack.
She can't help it.
Evidently. What do you got?
- The murder weapons. - Billiard balls?
While examining Teresa,
I was reminded of a case I worked during my apprenticeship.
That case involved snooker balls.
Snooker, being an English game,
requires more skill than common "pool,"
as it employs the use of 21 object balls
of a smaller size.
Point being, I found these in a dumpster behind the motel
where Teresa was murdered.
The killer would've placed these in a pillowcase
- and then, wham. - Babineaux.
911 just got a call from your guy.
Tell them to forward it to me.
Are there any pool halls near the motel?
I can find out. See if anyone's missing these three.
Here's the 911 call.
Oh man, you gotta help me.
I think they're gonna waste my ass.
Can you tell me where you are, sir?
I'm in the trunk of some car.
We were driving but we stopped for a while.
No, no, no!
Clive.
Dispatch is saying they're still getting a signal from the phone.
Where's it coming from?
Cameron's phone stopped putting out a signal.
Maybe the battery died.
Yeah, that's probably it.
Knock, knock.
I have to pee. -No one's stopping you, brother.
Look, I don't know if you're hungry,
but you know what my mom always says?
"Why'd I stop using birth control?"
No. "There's always room for soup!"
Come on.
There you go.
Say what you want about the lady that owns this place,
she makes a mean bean and bratwurst stew.
What the hell?
Oh, looks like you found the secret to our secret recipe.
Oh!
Aw, c'mon.
Eating brains doesn't make you a monster.
It takes a little more effort.
Tommy?
I almost forgot. One of your runaway kids,
destined to run no more.
It's Cameron's.
So, I guess we get a giant can opener and start checking trunks.
Or maybe not.
If you're gonna kill Cameron
and leave him in the trunk of a car to be demolished,
and see he has a phone, you don't leave it here and on.
You'd know we'd find him.
Maybe they didn't know he had the phone.
Then how does it get inside the tire?
There is a traffic camera at the last intersection.
We need to see those photos.
What are we looking for?
We don't know the make of the car
or who was driving while Cameron was calling from the trunk.
If my hunch is right,
we're gonna recognize the driver.
I don't think Vaughn Du Clark is doing his own dirty work.
And there he is.
Oh, Cam.
What were you thinking?
Probably something about all that Max Rager money
he wouldn't have to split with his bandmates.
I need to modify an APB on Cameron Henley.
He's last seen driving a white Impala.
Hey! Five bucks to wash your windshield?
Ugh. With what, your ass?
I'm kick-starting this bitch, man.
I take your five dollars and I buy a glass cleaner, a rag,
and I'm in business.
Hey.
How would you like to earn ten dollars?
If you're the redhead with the green dress,
that must make me the guy with the thumb drive.
Let me see it.
After I get a peek in the backpack.
I hope you were more discreet with what's on this.
I didn't make any copies,
if that's what you're asking.
Good.
My employer is someone you don't want to screw with.
Look, in case you hadn't noticed,
neither am I.
Okay.
This is for you.
Dillinger.
Finish it before you leave. We shouldn't walk out together.
See, I got a bum knee, pardon the pun,
that acts up when it rains.
If I could afford a bus ticket...
Yeah, we got a possible 281 on that APB.
Sir, he paid you ten dollars to watch his car. Then what?
Yeah, so, I watched his car, like he asked.
And I turned away for like a minute,
and when I turned back, I saw some dudes
rolling out from under the car.
And then a moment later, the kid comes out.
He's got a backpack now, I remember that.
And I like...
And he walked away.
Then...
He made a funny sound while spitting on you?
Do you remember anything else, like what he was wearing?
Anything we can add to the description of Cameron?
The backpack, it was orange.
Hey, do you know why we've stopped?
Border's just up ahead.
Canadian Customs has to check passports,
do cavity searches, all that stuff.
Geez, hon, relax.
I was kidding about the cavity searches.
Customs inspection, son. Need you to return to your seat.
Dude, I'm dying here,
some lady's been locked in the bathroom for the past half-hour,
I gotta go.
- All right. - Thanks.
Thanks.
Hold on a minute, son.
Can you give me a description of the kid we're looking for again?
Look,
I'm telling you I didn't kill Nate and Teresa.
These were used to beat Teresa to death.
Stolen from a pool hall
two blocks from the hotel where her body and your blood was found.
The manager of that pool hall just picked you out of our lineup.
I'm guessing that you picked at that scab,
and left the blood on the motel sheets as a mislead.
Same as the gas station and 911 performances.
All for show.
Then what do you want from me?
I want to know what sort of person kills his friends for three hundred grand.
I want a deal.
I want to be tried as a minor. Then I'll talk.
Otherwise, I want a lawyer now.
There must be something pretty wicked
on that thumb drive if they wanted it so badly.
I mean, what's a copy of it worth to you?
There is a police officer fighting for his life right now,
so I've got a better idea.
How about we just let you go,
escort you right out the front door of the station?
Our press liaison will tell the world you were cooperative,
and we just let whoever put that transmitter in your book bag,
the same people who put that bomb in your car,
find you.
Do whatever it is they do to you.
I can live with that.
Nate got a text from Kimber's phone after she died.
A phone number and a message saying, "Need to talk."
Nate called and a woman offered $300,000
for a thumb drive that was in the wallet of that psycho freak that killed Kimber.
Nate wanted to go to the cops.
I wanted the cash.
I mean, we stole the car,
ran over a guy, buried him alive
and were all high as hell at the time.
Going to the police wasn't gonna happen.
And I didn't want to kill Teresa, either.
But we all have "Find My Friends" on our phones,
and when I couldn't locate her,
guess where the little blinking dot showed where she was?
Right here.
Ratting us out to the police.
That girl talked big,
but a wuss when things got real.
No wonder Max Rager went after her.
Rebecca's article here uncovers everything.
They knew about the psychotic breaks their product caused,
they buried it, and people died as a result.
She had the smoking gun memo to back it all up.
What's this video file?
Don't just live to the Max, live beyond it.
Super Max.
That's ridiculous.
It's just caffeine, right? It's not like it's magic.
I should check in downstairs, let Ravi know what we've learned.
Clive's right, it's ridiculous.
Unless it's not.
If Max Rager put the rage into full-on zombie mode,
what's Super Max gonna do?
Seattle Observer? I need to speak to the news editor.
Ravi?
Ravi.
Must be nice.
No brains to eat.
No ghastly memories of the dead to process or obsess over.
Hey, what's up?
Have you seen or heard from Major?
Not since he dropped off those coolers of brains at my place. Why?
It doesn't look like he came home last night.
I'm really worried about him, Liv.
I am too.
Any word from Peyton?
Uh, sadly, no.
I'll reach out to Major.
I'm so sick of this life, Ravi.
Hang in there.
It's not much longer now.
Text just came in on our brain thief's cell phone.
You'll like it.
I'll be damned.
"One dose, maybe two," that's what Ravi said.
I'll take half and live with the results.
Or die with them.
Ravi can reverse-engineer with whatever's left.
I was starting to worry about you.
After all we've been through, that warms my heart.
Why do you have Major's phone?
He took something of mine.
I'm just trying to get it back.
- Please don't hurt him. - I give you my word.
Bring me those monkey brains, and he'll be fine.
I take it by your silence
we're not going to play the "What brains?" game.
I appreciate that. But let me be clear.
If I don't get back my brains,
I'm opening up his skull and eating his.
Judging by the quiver in your voice,
and the fact that he was willing to freeze to death
rather than give you up,
I'm guessing that's a meal
that would bring our relationship to the next level.
I'll bring them. Tell me where.
I want to see Major.
You don't want to catch up first?
I have so much to tell you.
Raincheck, then.
Bring out the Boy Scout.
Yessir.
That is the right stuff.
Miss Moore, it's always a pleasure.
Mmm. So good.
With runaways, you don't need to get fancy,
the natural flavors do all the work.
I hate that noise.
I tried pericardial fluid,
I tried lymph.
It has this surprisingly high smoke point...
Get down!
Oh, God. No, please, please.
Blaine, he did this to me, I'm just an artisanal butcher.
I'm just a chef. Please.
It's okay. Just get out of here.
Thank you.
Thank you, God bless you.
All units, we have a 10-50N,
noise complaint, 102110th Avenue.
Meat Cute Charcuterie. Possible gunshots.
Dispatch, this is Suzuki, I'm right there.
I'll check it out and radio if backup's required.
Out.
Walk away from this.
Look what you did, man.
Just what we need.
A noise complaint.
You've got the slow and agonizing death thing under control, right?
Great. I hope it hurts.
Ah!
Mother Jones! That hurts.
You killed Major, didn't you?
Okay, let's put the gun down, huh?
Let's talk.
There's a reason you didn't aim for my head.
I'm the only one who knows
who all the zombies are in Seattle
and where they live, so, really you can't kill me.
You murdered Lowell.
Just listen to me!
I feed Seattle's zombies.
If I stop doing that job, they don't stop eating,
and the zombie apocalypse begins.
If you kill me,
everyone you love becomes a zombie or zombie food.
Liv...
No.
We have to stop the bleeding.
Just be here with me, okay?
I told you there were zombies.
You didn't believe me.
Wait.
Oh, man. He doesn't know?
Dude, you are about to go out with one large dose of irony.
Seattle's preeminent zombie hunter
not realizing the entire time that his own beloved...
I mean,
the hair, the eyes, the complexion,
you thought those were, what,
just questionable style choices?
Liv...
You?
Major.
Please.
- Please, I... - What a waste.
All this sound and fury. And for what?
Nothing.
I've got friends in high places.
Tomorrow's headline,
"Crackpot shoots up butcher shop."
Kill my crew, I'll make more.
Kill my customers,
I'll make more.
You cost me money. I'll make...
Make more now, bitch.
- What did you do? - You're cured, mazel tov.
Did you... Is this...
Oh, no.
Oh, no, you've really screwed the pooch now.
Let me know if you survive. You're our guinea pig now.
If there's a zombie apocalypse, assume I didn't.
It's Suzuki. All clear here.
Just some kids shooting off firecrackers.
You should try to get this down.
It won't satisfy your cravings,
but it'll help you get your strength back.
It gets better,
but it would be lying to say you get used to it.
But doesn't lying come naturally to you by now?
You're a zombie.
Well, you've been a zombie since that night on the lake.
Instead of telling me the truth,
you decided it'd be easier to break my heart.
Better, not easier.
I know what you would've done if I told you.
You have no faith in me.
I have more faith in you than anyone ever.
You would've told me that it doesn't matter,
that you loved me anyway.
And you would've sentenced yourself
to a life without sex, without children.
It's who you are.
I couldn't ask that of you.
You couldn't ask that of me,
but you turned me into a zombie without my permission.
Rather than watch you die.
You know what I want? What sounds good to me?
Brains.
Human brains.
So, you, you eat them, don't you? Wait.
You must.
You eat the brains of people who come in the morgue.
When zombies eat brains,
we get the memories of the deceased,
and I help solve their murders.
So, that's what helps you sleep at night.
Hmm.
What about me?
What's the greater good for me?
Us?
I hope.
We can be together now.
It's not how we imagined,
but it's what fate dealt us.
It's not what fate dealt me, Liv.
You did.
The same person who let me
check myself into a mental hospital,
let me think I was crazy.
But when you had a chance to play God
and decide whether I died or became this,
did you decide based on what you wanted
or what you thought I wanted?
If it's what you thought I wanted,
then you don't know me as well as you think you do.
Oh, my...
Yeah.
It looks like Suzuki must've surprised these guys
and gone down swinging.
He got five of 'em. Poor guy.
Hold on.
Blackstock. Come here.
I need you to bring in Major Lilywhite,
white male, 30-ish.
That's his address.
Run a gun residue test on him.
- But the Lieutenant... - Just do it.
Is this the end of Max Rager?
Trust me, we're just getting started.
Liv?
Whatever happens now, I hope you can forgive me.
I doubt humanity is going to.
What? What did you do?
Mom?
Oh, God.
Your brother has lost a lot of blood,
and he's going to need more in order to survive.
Unfortunately, he's O-negative,
and we don't have any.
Liv is O-negative. Remember?
That time you sliced open your head on that nail.
Evan was a match for you.
Oh, thank God you had your phone on.
We don't have much time.
Can you come with me, Miss Moore?
Liv. Go with the doctor!
No.