02x13 - The Whopper

Episode transcripts for the TV show "iZOMBiE". Aired March 2015 - August 2019.*
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A Seattle Medical Resident and M.D. finds that being a zombie and eating brains allows her to help the police solve murders. Based on the comix by Chris Roberson and Michael Allred.
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02x13 - The Whopper

Post by bunniefuu »

Liv: Previously, on iZombie...

Dale: This is our guy. I think he's the Chaos k*ller.

Blaine. This is the suspect in the Meat Cute m*ssacre.

We found him.

So, we use FBI resources.

Then we bust this SOB.

I'm reading the news and then suddenly your scary ass Pops is staring at me.

The Chaos k*ller kidnapped the guy just like our other customers.

We'll be taking that tainted Utopium that we need to make the cure.

You said he knew where to find it.

Old high school buddy of mine was a drug dealer.

Him and this other dealer swallowed a bunch of condoms full of Utopium.

So we have two bodies packed full of tainted Utopium buried in a shallow grave.

Ravi: We've narrowed the location to a single 100-acre field.

Man 1: (ON RADIO) Welcome to Boba Chatt, the podcast of the Dark Side.

Man 1: (ON RADIO) Kylo Ren. Emo brat, or supreme badass?

Major: Ravi!

Ravi!

Ravi!

Man 2: (ON RADIO) Kylo was the guy who claims that Fall Out Boy was more than music.

I'm more scared of Rick Moranis as Dark Helmet than Kylo Ren.

We did it!

Here he is! Huh? Zombie cure, here we come!

It isn't one of our guys.

(SIGHS) Ours have been dead for nearly two years.

This one's only a couple of months gone.

Then who is this?

(THEME SONG PLAYING)

Geo-whatting?

Geocaching.

It's a real world outdoor treasure hunting game.

Strangers leave caches, post the GPS coordinates, and then people like us go out and find them.

That's what we were doing.

What sort of treasures?

Oh! Let's see.

Um, Matchbox cars, sets of crayons.

Yeah. I found a wheat penny once.

So treasures for children.

It's more about the joy of discovery.

Why do men climb mountains, Clive?

Because it tests their endurance, their courage, their sense of themselves as men?

Oh, I'm sorry. Were you drawing a comparison?

Liv: Clive?

The victim appears to be in his 30s.

One g*nsh*t wound in his chest. One in his back.

No ID, but a coaster with a phone number.

Maybe whoever's answered this number can ID our vic.

Major, can I have a word?

What can I do for you, Detective?

Some new evidence came to light in the Meat Cute case, and I wanted to ask you a couple more questions.

What do you suppose Clive is asking Major about?

Dunno.

He didn't buy the geocaching story?

I thought he did, but who knows?

You were arrested for breaking into a man's car.

You said this man, Julien Dupont, was in possession of a human brain.

This was the same man you later claimed broke into your house.

Look, I said a lot of things, and was urged to seek medical treatment.

By you, if I recall.

Well, good news.

The doctors at the mental institution were able to cure me.

Realized it was all just in my head.

I had a vision last night, Ravi.

Yeah?

You know some idiot is moving in on Mr. Boss' drug trade?

That would explain the corner boys ending up in our drawers with pocketfuls of lucky U.

That idiot is Blaine.

Are you sure?

In my vision, Blaine's flunky, Don E., was selling it.

These brains, man.

You handed me a Holocaust survivor.

You want me to describe some of my visions to you?

She was a classical violinist.

Go out and impress some ladies.

Where's Natalie, man?

I'm a zombie. I'm not dead.

Natalie's not available.

Work it out, Blaine.

Or maybe the next story I publish in the paper you won't like as much as the last one.

(PHONE BEEPS)

(CLICKS OFF PHONE)

It's gonna be gross, isn't it?

He has been dead for a couple of months.

(SIGHS) But I don't even know anyone who's d*ed.

He had your phone number written on a coaster.

I'm afraid you're our only lead.

Okay.

Do it.

Oh!

Oh, this jackass.

You do know him?

Kind of. His name's Corey.

I hooked up with him a couple months ago.

d*ck never called me again.

Possibly because he was dead?

Yeah. You're right. That's probably why.

'Cause I know he had a good time.

You know this Corey's last name?

Mmm-mmm.

He was just a guy I'd always see at Possibilities.

That's a bar?

Yeah.

Did he work there?

No. He was an FBI agent.

He was in Seattle infiltrating a g*ng of bank robbers.

I'll run this by Bozzio.

(CAMERA CLICKS)

If she bears your children, you'll start using her first name, right?

Thank you for your help, Miss Schafer.

I'll show you out.

Bye.

You realize this Corey's brain could lead us to the tainted Utopium.

How do you figure?

Well, it stands to reason there aren't multiple K*llers dumping bodies in the same field.

So whoever ex*cuted this FBI agent...

Probably also m*rder*d the two guys we've been digging for.

Find Corey's k*ller...

And maybe we can get him to tell us where he buried Drake's high school buddy and his friend.

What better time to be on FBI agent brain.

Would Bozzio even know if the FBI sent an agent to Seattle who was working deep undercover?

She says if an agent had been missing for a couple months, she would.

This Corey guy's not FBI.

(SIGHS) You know, I used to bartend.

You never mentioned that.

Yeah.

At this island-themed place called Jamaica Me Thirsty.

The bartenders were the show, juggling bottles, making drinks blindfolded, dancing on the bar.

I was kind of a big deal.

Don't bother looking for the place now.

Wasn't planning to.

Went under back in '09.

I invented the Orgasm, Clive.

Amaretto.

Irish Cream whiskey. Coffee liqueur. That was me.

Seattle PD.

Do you recognize this man?

Give a girl a little warning.

Yeah, that's Big Fish.

Hasn't been around in a while, though.

We were told his name was Corey.

Yeah, Corey Carp.

But everyone called him Big Fish.

Because he's a big guy and his name is Carp?

(LAUGHS) No.

Because everything out of his mouth was a lie.

Ah!

A fish story.

How'd he die?

He was m*rder*d.

The woman who identified his body said she saw him here often.

Yeah. He worked for the company that rents us all our arcade games.

He'd come in a couple nights a week, collect all the quarters, then he'd sit around and try and chat up the ladies.

He'd sniff out the drunkest girls and tell them anything.

That he was a 9/11 first responder, or that he was drafted by the Seahawks, but blew out a knee before he ever played a snap.

Or an FBI agent infiltrating a g*ng of bank robbers.

Bartender: Yeah.

Stuff like that.

Too bad about Big Fish. Nice guy.

Hey.

What's up?

"Pinball Vintage Amusements. Pier 55. 8500 Alaskan Way."

You recognize that address?

Mr. Boss' warehouse.

Big Fish worked for Mr. Boss.

And now he's dead.

Still the insolent boy.

I blame my upbringing.

Clearly, I wasn't beaten enough as a child.

It remains my greatest regret.

Really?

So you're over losing out to Eva Braun, huh?

Why has my father's domestic help joined us for the reading of his will?

It was a stipulation he requested.

And it won't be a reading.

Not exactly.

Hmm.

To my dear friend, Frieda Bader, who has served me loyally for 35 years, (SIGHS)

I leave $10 million and the Lake Como estate.

And why not?

She only starved your son to punish him for tracking in mud.

Gave away his dog when he was caught shoplifting bubblegum.

And you still believe that barking, shedding mutt was given away.

You never wondered why the rose bush in the south garden grew so fast and full?

To my son, Blaine.

Blaine! Old man Newcomb's on the phone.

Handle it.

Says it's urgent.

Fine. We'll handle it.

To my son, Blaine, I leave the balance of my assets.

The houses in Seattle and Maui, the cabin in Whistler, the controlling shares in Vantage Elite Properties.

In the following circumstances, however, this section of the will becomes null.

If my death has resulted from foul play, then all of my assets will be awarded to Frau Bader and her descendants should she not outlive me.

He can't do this.

A prescient man, your father.

He was m*rder*d by a serial k*ller!

Or anyone with a can of spray paint.

Liquidate everything.

Deposit all funds to this account.

I'm contesting this.

You're welcome to.

But I can assure you, it's legally-binding.

Blaine, you need to come down here, quick!

Blaine: (ON INTERCOM) Why's that, Don E?

We blew one of our breakers, the fridge has been off and I think our brains went bad.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

♪ Happy birthday to you, Blaine ♪
♪ I think this gift will make good... ♪

It's not my birthday, Don E.

♪ ... brain ♪

Well, then maybe we should return your present.

Old man Newcomb trapped him in his panic room.

It's the Chaos k*ller.

What?

He had spray paint cans on him.

And this.

(LAUGHS)

We meet again, old friend.

(GRUNTS)

Ah! He's waking up.

Scott E?

Nope. I'm flattered, though. That was one good-looking man.

Rise and shine, Major Bummer.

What do you think of my latest business venture?

Your girlfriend gives it her old zombie stamp of approval.

Liv doesn't...

No, she's totally down with me getting my brains from people that don't need them anymore.

We're BFFs now.

Who else is gonna feed Seattle's zombies?

At least until you k*ll them all, right?

I'm not k*lling...

(SHUSHING)

The lying to save your life section comes later.

So, you're the Chaos k*ller.

Did you know that those are my customers you've been taking out?

My income stream?

I'm sure you did.

(SIGHS) Don E.

How soon could you have a grave dug?

I have plans, actually.

A few hours.

Well, let's get 'er done.

Bad news, brother.

Today is the last day of your life.

So you better get straight with your God, 'cause here comes the big one.

You comfy in there?

I ask, because it's where you're going to be spending eternity.

But because I'm a forgiving man, I'm willing to let you decide which way you go out.

There's quick and painless, a b*llet straight to the heart.

I know, a head sh*t would be quicker, but that brain of yours is gonna fetch a pretty penny.

Or (CLEARS THROAT), we turn you into a zombie and we bury you in this box, where you will suffer forever with an abiding hunger for brains that you will never sate.

Wait. What do you want to know?

Well, it's obvious there's a leak in my organization.

I mean, how else are you finding my zombies?

Give me a name, and we'll go the quick route.

Scout's honor.

Otherwise it is... (IMITATES HACKSAW) express train to Zombieland.

You're not a zombie, all right?

So what do you plan on doing with that finger?

Chief!

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)

So, you've got zombie-dar.

That explains so much.

Of course, you're not just wandering around the streets waiting for it to go... off.

(CHUCKLES)

(SNIFFS)

Do you believe me now? Hmm?

The part about me turning you into a zombie?

I was given a list.

Three hundred names, all suspected zombies, all connoisseurs of fake tans, hair dye and hot sauce.

My job was to figure out which ones were zombies and which ones weren't, and get rid of the ones that are.

I was told that if I didn't do it, they would take out every single person on the list, and they would start with Liv.

Oh. Who's the "they"?

Let me know who's making you do this.

No.

You must have a pair on you the size of watermelons.

If I told you, you have no reason to keep me alive.

And aren't you a little bit interested to know if you're on their list?

Maybe a few more hours in the dark will make that quick death more appealing.

Close him up. I'm not going to miss you.

This pathological liar brain is gonna get me in trouble.

I can feel it.

Ravi: Not with me.

I'll know the truth when I hear it.

Ahh!

I stand corrected.

It's a bloodbath.

Oh, damn it.

I was afraid of that.

What am I looking at, Ravi?

Matricide.

These six young zombie rats are clones of New Hope.

The remains you see here are those of the mother that gave birth to them.

Apparently, the little clones decided it was time to switch from mother's milk to brains.

Why the clones?

When we find the tainted Utopium, I'd prefer to test on rats, normal and zombie, rather than humans.

New Hope, like Blaine and Major, became a zombie and was given the cure.

Her clone should give us the most accurate picture of what Blaine and Major can expect.

I'd hate to lose a perfectly good zombie rat.

Let's use Blaine as our guinea pig.

You don't really mean that.

What does he need to do to prove to you that he's the devil?

Put up a sign?

He's mocking us.

I really hate this guy.

I'm gonna keep up surveillance on him, but he knows we're out there.

He can pull that hearse right up to their back door, smuggle whatever he wants in and out.

Could there be a better front for a serial k*ller?

I mean, he can cremate bodies, bury bodies.

Liv: Hey.

Dale: Hey, Liv. What's up?

Clive didn't tell you?

About my lottery ticket?

First I've heard of it.

I hit five out of six numbers, and I only missed the sixth by one.

I was this close to $40 million.

Five out of six numbers, I think that still wins you 50 grand or something like that.

Oh sh**t!

Why did I tear up my ticket? I just was so mad.

Live and learn, I guess.

That's very Zen of you.

Well, back to the salt mines.

You texted?

Yeah.

It turns out Corey Carp's $75,000 luxury sedan has been in our impound lot for the past couple of months.

How did he afford...

Guess what we found in the trunk?

A goose that lays golden eggs?

Thirteen thousand quarters stashed in his spare tire wheel well.

What if he was skimming and Mr. Boss found out?

Well, that's one way to end up buried in a shallow grave.

Look, I know it's hard to feel bad for someone that grew up with a nanny, but I hope no one is picturing Mary Poppins here.

(THUMPING)

Should we see what he wants?

I sure don't want my hole to go to waste.

Yeah, Chief, "That's what she said."

Don't bother.

(GRUNS)

So?

Your customers aren't dead.

I can bring them back to you. Eventually.

They're not dead?

Hey, Blaine! You can get your dad back!

How badly do you want to see your dad again?

My handlers don't care which zombie I take out next as long as I make my way steadily down my list.

And they have you freeze them?

They think I'm k*lling them.

k*lling sounds easier.

Yeah, except I'm not a m*rder*r.

I bet you tell that to all the families grieving for their loved ones.

(MAKES POPPING SOUND)

So, how did they find you?

Help wanted ad? "Zombie k*ller needed."

They knew Liv was a zombie. So they bugged her phone and learned stuff.

So who would want zombies gone, but want it done quietly?

I'll figure it out.

In the meantime, I'm gonna need my dad back.

God, do I miss that man.

(WHIMPERING)

Nope. Can't do it. You need me to show you a photo or...

No, I have no doubt which one is your dad.

Imperious, fancy dresser, owns a bust of himself.

That's the guy!

And from here on, I tell you which zombies you take out.

I think we could solve a few of each other's problems.

There's someone out there.

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

Hey. Hey. Hey.

It's the FBI, man. They've got a crush on me.

They've got it in their head that I'm the Chaos k*ller.

You're gonna have to leave here the same way you came in, back of a hearse.

Chief will take you.

Major: All right.

Uh, Major.

Yeah?

I know where you live.

I know where Liv, um, lives.

Give me my dad or things are gonna get ugly fast, okay?

How can you not see it?

Sorry, mate. Not sure I follow.

She takes on certain personality traits of the victims we're investigating.

Now, I do my best to roll with it, figure it helps her get in tune, psychically-speaking.

If you say so, um...

Right now, for instance, the guy we're investigating is a pathological liar.

She...

Liv: Lunch is here!

Finally. Did you get lost?

I would've been back sooner, but the guy in front of me in line had a mild heart att*ck.

I had to administer CPR, wait for paramedics...

He'll survive, but your kung pao chicken may be cold.

Then it would be small of me to complain.
Ballistics came back.

The g*n found buried with Big Fish matches an unsolved m*rder from last year.

Popeye Collier. Dock worker.

He witnessed a Utopium shipment arrive from Hong Kong, was gonna testify against the men from Mr. Boss' crew he saw unloading it.

He was k*lled in his home.

Looked like a professional hit.

That's Terrell Johnson.

Captured at the m*rder scene, covered in Collier's blood.

Ex-con.

No w*apon was found though, and there was no g*nsh*t residue on Terrell's hands.

I talked to Lieutenant Devore who handled the Collier case back when she was in Vice.

She said they were sure Johnson was the k*ller, just couldn't make it stick.

Terrell Johnson could be a hitman working for Boss.

If he's taken out two of Boss' enemies, he's probably taken out a lot more.

Devore said Terrell disappeared without a trace after the trial, but... I've tracked him down.

Clive: Terrell Johnson? Seattle PD, we'd like to talk.

Has this seemed like the longest day?

What do you want?

You know this man?

Name's Corey Carp. Goes by "Big Fish."

No. Why?

He was m*rder*d.

(CHUCKLES)

The same g*n that was used as the Popeye Collier m*rder.

You want to talk to me, I'm gonna be needing a lawyer present.

(SNICKERS)

(SIGHS) Any visions?

No. But he sure felt like our guy.

I'm not disputing that Bonnie and Clyde are like family to you, but the IRS doesn't allow you to claim pit bulls as dependents.

But I'm their sole provider.

I know, but I always advise my clients to stay on the right side of the law.

Man: Hey, Boss.

Our friend in the SPD just called.

Detectives working the Big Fish case like Terrell Johnson for it.

They tracked the guy down.

They do, huh?

Want me to handle it?

Where's Drake?

You feel that?

It's a tumor.

(IN MOCK ACCENT) It's not a toomah. It's a muscle.

You could have it removed, but then you'd only have a five pack.

It's too risky.

You're not taking me seriously.

You already told me you're on hypochondriac brain.

You should've kept that to yourself if you wanted more sympathy.

Blaine gives all the best brains, the people with the fun obits, to his paying customers.

His hired help gets the leftovers.

I want you to be careful down there.

Blaine is selling Utopium out of Shady Plots. I'm sure of it.

He's taking on Mr. Boss.

You almost had me.

Pathological liar brain. I'm gonna have to be careful.

No. This is the truth.

You need to watch your back.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Major?

Major: Hey.

You're not really palling around with Blaine, are you?

What makes you think I've been palling around with Blaine?

Well, it must've been when he said you two were BFFs now.

Shh. My roommate's sleeping.

What are you doing palling around with Blaine?

I'm not.

Look, I'm taking my grandmother on a tour of cemeteries, and surprise, surprise...

You visited Shady Plots.

So you do know what he's up to.

But I'm not palling around with him.

One of the weird, um, "perks" of my job is that I get to know just about every funeral director in the city.

You didn't tell me.

Yeah, because I thought you might do something unwise with the information.

Drop by the grenade store.

Okay, look, anything I might do to him, he'd deserve.

No arguments here, but you've gotta know that he serves a purpose.

He's in charge of feeding Seattle's zombies.

That's his gig.

At least now he's doing it without murdering people.

Okay. You need to move.

What?

He thought it would be cute to mention that he knows here you live.

Look, just a building with a doorman and security cameras.

He knows where I work, too.

So...

(DOOR CLOSES BEHIND LIV)

Major: Oh.

You have company?

Sorry?

It seems like there's someone moving around in your bedroom.

Oh, no. That's... That's my brother.

Oh, really? So, uh, you...

You two have patched things up.

Everything's hunky-dory.

It must be if you're having slumber parties.

His buddy dropped him off here.

Evan tied one on, and he's crashing here, so that he doesn't have to face Mom until he's sobered up.

And you know he's allergic to pet dander, so...

Oh, I didn't, actually.

Yeah.

And my roommate is dog-sitting her uncle's mini golden doodle.

So cute. The dog, not the uncle.

Anyway, there's dog hair all over the couch, and if Evan even gets close...

Okay. Yeah, I got it.

Long story short, I am sleeping on the couch tonight.

But I should get back to Evan because I was just on a mission to get his puke bucket.

(LAUGHS)

Thank you for worrying about me.

Oh, yeah.

All right.

I'm sorry for swinging by so late.

Tell Evan hi for me.

Sorry that took so long.

Oh, it's no biggie. Work called.

G-Rad got att*cked by a drunk bachelorette.

Girl nearly took his eye out with a penis straw.

They need me to go down there and cover the door.

How about dinner terorrow? I make a mean brain ziti.

Yeah. Sounds great. Wait. Is that another lie?

Hand to God.

I'll leave the key under the mat in case you b*at me here.

And if you want to bring another girl, we can make it a real party.

Cool.

That last part was a lie.

I know.

You wanted to see me, Boss?

You've been with us for about a year-and-a-half now, Drake.

You work hard, but even better, you work smart.

I think it's about time we gave you more to do around here, huh?

You ready to pop that cherry?

I don't even need to be sweet-talked.

Terrell Johnson. He lives at 555 Brooksbank.

By tomorrow, that should no longer be a true statement.

No problem. What did he do?

Does it matter?

Not even a little bit.

He took out one of our guys.

Looks like he's got it in his head to settle old scores.

Liv: Everyone lies.

It's a coping mechanism. A key survival trait.

Show me someone who always tells the truth, and I'll show you a weirdo.

But maybe the most dangerous lies are the ones we tell ourselves.

(POLICE SIREN BLARING)

That boy you like?

The one who gets sh*t, the one who hangs out with Don E. and Blaine and disappears in the middle of the night.

You've never seen his place or met his friends.

(POLICE SIRENS BLARING)

(GASPS)

(LINE RINGING)

Clive: Babineaux.

Liv: Clive, it's me. I had a vision.

Terrell was lying. He knew Big Fish.

He did?

Big Fish saw Terrell bent over Popeye Collier's dead body, blood on his hands.

Big Fish could've put Terrell away for m*rder.

That has to be why Terrell k*lled him.

We should drop back in on Terrell.

I can swing by first thing.

Great. I'll be ready.

Oh, and Clive, if you can, pick me up a soy vanilla latte.

There's this new study that says caffeine helps stimulate psychic activity.

Clive?

Clive!

(COFFEE MAKER GURGLING)

(EXHALES)

Drake: Hey, Terrell.

Mr. Boss sent me.

I'm afraid I have some bad news for you.

(GRUNTS)

Mr. Johnson? It's Detective Babineaux.

Mr. Johnson!

The door's ajar. Can't we just go in?

Mr. Johnson! Seattle PD.

Show yourself.

Mr. Johnson!

I'm gonna check the back. Stay here.

Liv. Come here.

Someone left in a hurry?

Check out this laptop.

Liv: He was researching flights to Mexico.

All of them leaving the first thing this morning.

Looks like our visit motivated him to get the hell out of Dodge.

An innocent man doesn't hightail it to Mexico.

I'll call Homeland Security.

We should be able to have someone waiting for him if he gets on one of these flights.

Candy: Ooh, I could do blood dripping out of the corners of your mouth.

Make you even scarier.

(DOOR OPENS)

That's not really the object.

(GRUNTS) A warning. Your dad's still frozen.

I guess someone's gotta make an obligatory popsicle joke, right?

No? When did it get so highbrow in here?

Hey, this isn't for my benefit, right?

I still know you're not a zombie.

Ah, but it's only a matter of time, though, isn't it?

If we're on the same path as Ravi's test rat?

We might as well get comfortable with it.

Oh! They're so cute when they're sleeping.

So, I held up my end of the bargain.

You?

Why do you think I went through all of this trouble?

Jeremy Chu. Our friend in the fourth estate.

Welcome to Shady Plots.

Hmm, a funeral home.

I should've known that's how you were getting your brains.

Well, how else would one manage it?

I appreciate your patience in regards to our sudden dearth in undead courtesans.

Luckily, there's always a few ladies dying to join the team.

Well, hello.

Candy: Hi, there.

I'm Candy.

There's a Rolling Stones lyric.

"You could make a dead man... " (GRUNTS)

You see? Wasn't that easier?

Now, for the real makeup job.

Little help here?

Where's the big zombie?

(LINE RINGING)

This is Drake. Leave a message.

(ANSWERING MACHINE BEEPS)

Hey, it's me. I thought you were coming over for dinner.

Text me so I know you're alive?

Unless I'm being ghosted. In which case that would defeat the purpose.

Ah, frack!

Fish. You don't gotta do this.

(GRUNTS)

(GRUNTS)

(GASPS)

Hey. It's just me.

I'm sorry I'm getting here so late.

I saw you.

The night you were sh*t.

You didn't tell me the whole story, did you?

You're an accessory to the m*rder I'm investigating.

So Don E. k*lled Big Fish, and Big Fish k*lled our two would-be Utopium smugglers.

Vic Parisi and Lonny Evans.

And when Big Fish found out that Don E.

And Drake were looking for their bodies, he tried to k*ll them, too.

That's great!

How is that great?

Don E. is the k*ller that Clive and I have been looking for, but Don E. knows all about zombies.

And he sh*t Big Fish in defense of my boyfriend, who, by the way, helped bury Big Fish's body.

That's obstruction at least.

Okay. So not so great on that front.

But we know somewhere in those Big Fish memories in your head, you likely have the information about where our Utopium smugglers are buried.

You just have to trigger the vision.

I know. That's why I'm meeting Drake at his high school buddy Vic's place later.

He's gonna get me in the house, and, with any luck, the magic'll happen.

What's the Missy Elliott song, "Cerebellum, don't fail me now"?

I don't think that's how it goes.

I've got an update on the Big Fish homicide.

Our guy Terrell Johnson? He's on the lam.

His passport and ID were missing from his house.

Most of his clothes were gone, too.

All signs point to Mexico.

Hmm.

Cops start sniffing around, so he bought himself a one way ticket.

I'll put out an APB and I'll...

Homeland Security can look for Johnson.

He's not your problem anymore.

Keep the coffee fresh until another homicide lands on your desk.

They're K cups.

Dale: Clive.

I just can't win with that woman.

Check out this Shady Plots surveillance photo.

It's blurry, it won't hold up in court, but it could be something.

That's Blaine, obviously.

But the other guy. Doesn't it kind of look like...

Major.

I'm here. Where are you?

Drake: (SIGHS) I'm so sorry, Liv. I can't make it.

I swear to God it feels like I'm having an appendicitis.

I know it's the brain, but I feel like I'm dying.

As soon as I'm on another brain, we'll drop by Vic's, okay?

Seriously?

Clive: Oh, God. Yes.

Okay. Feel better soon. Bye.

Bye.

(KNOCKS ON DOOR)

Hello?

Mrs. Parisi?

I'm Amy Aly n.

I don't mean to bother you, I was hoping to talk to you.

About your son, Vic.

I'm truly sorry for your loss.

My boyfriend was a friend of Vic's back in high school, Drake Holloway.

Drake who?

Holloway.

Uh, I don't know who that is.

Oh.

But sometimes I think Vic had a whole secret life.

Oh.

Well, uh, the reason Drake suggested coming to see you is I'm a reporter.

I'm working on a story for Stars and Stripes about decorated w*r heroes who struggled to find work upon returning home.

I was hoping to talk to you about Vic.

Sure. Come on in.

It's been nearly two years since Vic went missing.

Probably took me about half that to admit to myself he was dead.

Do you have any more recent pictures of Vic, maybe from his service or after he got back?

Sure.

That's his platoon in Fallujah and this one's from his welcome home party.

And here he is with his best friend Lonny.

Please! You don't have to do this!

Arghh!

(GASPS)

He survived so much over there.

Lost his leg.

However he d*ed, I hope he wasn't afraid.

I hope it was quick, and he didn't see it coming.

I'm sure it was.

Sorry. I'm gonna go grab a tissue.

(LINE RINGING)

Ravi: Hello.

Ravi, I know where to dig.

He's buried by a swing set.

(EXHALES) I can't tell you how badly we needed this news right now.

Why? What's wrong?

It's New Hope.

She d*ed this afternoon.

So Major.

And Blaine.

They're on borrowed time now.

We need to find that one-legged corpse ASAP.

(ANGUS SCREAMING)

(ONE DAY MORE FROM LES MISERABLES PLAYS)

(SCREAMING CONTINUES)

(GASPS)

(MUMBLES)

Daddy?

You've come back to us.

After 50 years of praying, here you are.

You missed it all.

The Zombie Apocalypse, the Rapture, the Ginger Rapture, the Great Floods of '28 and '44.

Blaine? Is that you?

Quick!

We've got to get you out of here before Dr. Zaius catches us!

You see, winter is coming!

(GROANS)

Son!

(GRUNTS) Please!

Help me!

"Please help me."

Where have I heard that before?

I know. I said it.

"Daddy, please help me.

Frau Bader b*at me.

Please help me, Frau Bader made me clean the kitchen floor with my tongue.

Frau Bader locked me in a dog crate all day."

You gave that woman $100 million!

I see. (LAUGHS)

How long have I been out? A few days?

If Frieda is getting all my money, that means people think I'm dead and that I (GRUNTS), forgive my inability to make air quotes, d*ed mysteriously.

And now your feelings are hurt because I had the temerity to include a provision in my will that has further evidenced the remarkable foresight on which my company was built!

You know, someone should teach you how to humblebrag.

People might hate you less.

And for what it's worth, I didn't "k*ll you."

I just negotiated for your body.

For this. This moment. For the joy it gives me.

Are you ready for your close up, Poppy dearest?

You're about to make a new video will.

No, son. I am not.

Because I know you.

You don't have the stomach to do what's necessary.

I guess we'll never know.

You see, I'm gonna go upstairs and have a sandwich, leave you with a couple of (SHOUTS) friends!

(DOOR OPENS)

You might remember Chief?

(DOOR CLOSES)

You had him sh*t in the face.

Oh, and Candy.

You tortured her, cut off her fingers.

Have fun, you guys.

Come find me when he's ready to make a new will.

Oh, and avoid the face.

We wanna leave him camera-ready. (CHUCKLES)

Blaine.

Son!

(MUSIC BECOMES LOUDER)

Angus: Son!

(ANGUS SCREAMS)

Liv: Right around here.

(GRUNTS)

Oh!

Whoo-hoo. Whoo!

Ravi: Yeah!

(LAUGHS) Whoo!

(PANTS)

(MUSIC CRESCENDOS)

Yay!

(MUSIC ENDS)
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