iZombie

Previously on iZombie...

Major is a zombie.

I'm a zombie, too.

Those 322 people are suspected zombies.

- Kill them? - I'm a fan of submarine movies.

Cut to the sailor who receives that order

closing that hatch on his comrades.

The man that closes that hatch is a hero, isn't he?

If this doesn't work...

If the cure doesn't happen...

- It's going to. - But if it doesn't...

I don't want to come back as a zombie.

A private military contractor buying out my little energy drink business.

Your factories, labs, all of it.

Drake's alive.

I just saw your zombies.

They're all alive!

Thanks for letting Ravi and me stay here.

I drove by my place,

my front yard is still occupied by reporters and looky-loos.

I know you're still rolling on drummer brain, but you need to switch to this.

Janko brain.

Vaughn sent Janko to kill me.

It's pretty clear he wants both of us eliminated.

We need to stay alive long enough to rescue Drake

and the rest of your kidnapped zombies from Vaughn's basement.

Our best chance is you joining me on this soldier-for-hire brain.

I know. Look, we need to get 'em all out.

All right. I promised our district attorney he'd see his kid again.

And there was this woman,

Natalie.

I promised her I'd be the first thing she saw when she defrosted.

I can't believe that murdering little troll

is just going to get away with everything.

Well, let's hope karma bites Mr. Boss in the arse.

What's up?

The Mayor officially shut down the Mr. Boss task force,

what with my star witness, Blaine, losing his memory.

And you know that smug son of a bitch

is going to take this as a sign that he can do whatever he wants.

Uh, Blaine or Mr. Boss?

Eggs?

Seriously, could anyone be having a worse day than me?

Hey. It's me again.

I have a feeling you're not listening to these messages,

but I'm really hoping we can get together and talk, Dale.

I wish you could trust I had a good reason to do what I did.

Please call me back.

I miss you.

Here it is, boys.

The Great Northern Railway's premiere passenger train,

the Empire Builder.

When this baby's whistle blows,

I might, too.

We've got some news, boss.

Did you find my boy Drake?

No, but we did find this.

Lucky U.

Got a bunch of it flooding the streets.

I thought we closed that spigot when we took care of Blaine.

Where did it come from?

Shaved-head punk is Don E.

Giant with the eye patch, he's new.

So, these two have taken over Blaine's business?

Yeah.

I want them dead.

Extra bloody.

You sure?

- So soon... - I won, Kenny.

Seattle threw in the towel. I own this city.

So, let's take our victory lap.

How are you feeling?

Like I let an entire city full of people down.

I was contemplating going door to door

handing out "sorry I suck so bad" gift baskets...

Hey. You're being too hard on yourself.

Mmm. I'm not.

Trust me.

I couldn't build a case against Mr. Boss. That's on me.

You did your best.

This is kind of a "results matter" situation,

and my best wasn't good enough.

Maybe you're too good. Of a person, in general.

I'm something of an expert on the whole "nice guys finish last" thing.

Mmm.

Personally, I've been toying with the idea of, uh,

becoming a bad boy.

- Is that right? - Yeah.

Start banging my mates' girlfriends,

get into strip club fights,

tip a few cows.

I can't imagine you doing any of that.

Well, you can't imagine good Ravi cow tipping,

but bad Ravi?

He'll knock a broad-arse bovine on her side without a second thought.

I don't buy into the whole "nice guys finish last" thing.

What the hell?

"Can you believe the news?"

"Tell me you have stock options, too."

"See you at the company party tomorrow."

Who's that from?

Dr. Wyatt Tomlin. One of the younger guys I train at Max Rager.

A party could be the perfect opportunity to sneak into the basement.

Um... Company.

Oh. Hey.

- Hi. - 'Sup?

- Okay, good night. -

I'm guessing we won't be needing this inflatable mattress.

It would've been so sweet if the DA's office

had been able to nail Mr. Boss.

Life would be all like...

Instead it's all Ken Burns Civil War-y...

We have to start watching our asses.

Where the ha-zell is Blaine with my Thai food?

The rice man cometh.

Go give him a hand, Chief.

Loony bastard probably can't remember how to untie plastic to-go bags.

Oh, damn!

Don't kill me! Please!

You want money? I'll give you whatever you want.

Can you spring all of my buddies from jail?

The ones doing time, thanks to your old boss and the District Attorney's office.

That's all on Blaine, man.

He started out trying to mess with Mr. Boss.

After a while, I think all he wanted

was to keep knocking boots with that hot DA.

- It's love, man. It makes you dopey. - Now Blaine's dead,

and somehow Lucky U is back on the streets.

And I'm guessing

that he's not the brains behind the operation. Which leaves...

Me?

I'm a glorified gopher. I'm no one.

Blaine's still running things.

- - Don't lie to me, boy.

I was there the night Blaine met his maker.

Dude! He's still kicking.

He's coming here, right now with Thai...

Go!

See?

See how valuable I am?

Your guy's never going to catch him.

- I know Blaine... - Shut up. You're both dead.

Okay! Okay!

Just make it quick. One to the head, bam, like Chief there.

No throat-slitting, gut shot nonsense. I can't handle pain, man.

Are your fricking hands shaking?

Damn, son.

My hand's not shaking!

Aw, man. Just move close. It'll make it easier to aim.

What? Mr. Boss couldn't send a pro? Am I your first?

I hope it hurts.

Hand to God. Blaine's really alive.

- He showed up at the funeral home. - That's the truth, boss.

We slit his throat. How in the hell could he be alive?

Maybe it was a miracle or something?

A miracle?

The only miracle is that I'm not asking Kenny to shoot you right now.

I want Blaine dead.

Dead, dead.

And when it's done, cut his head off,

bring it to me in a hat box.

This is Seattle,

not Sleepy Hollow.

I'm still processing zombies,

and now you're giving me secret labs?

Are all the zombies being dangled over a shark tank?

It is a good deal to digest.

Hey. Dr. Wyatt finally returned my text.

Clive...

I never got to thank you for everything you did to get me out of jail.

You saved me.

It had a bit more to do with the future of the species.

Still.

Be like Private Ryan.

Earn this.

That's the plan.

So, it turns out the party at Max Rager tonight is a lock-in,

down in their underground parking lot.

Prison-themed.

Because of their new Super Max drink.

A prison theme?

White people.

So, the party starts at 8:00 p.m., but by 10:00 p.m.,

the gates will be locked, and no one will be allowed in or out.

That's a pretty tight window to make something happen.

And by "make something happen," you mean...

We're going to break into Max Rager

and free Drake and the other zombies in the basement.

The biggest hurdle is the elevator doesn't go all the way down

without the handprint of someone with authorization.

I have an idea.

So, what? You plan on Weekend At Bernie's- ing

a dead Janko through the halls of Max Rager?

- Of course not. - We'll just take his hand.

You're going to cut off a dead man's hand and use it to open an elevator?

I think it's Janko's mercenary brain that's making them think

this is a reasonable idea.

I guess it is kind of grisly.

I'm not hearing other ideas.

Maybe Dr. Wyatt?