Original subtitles

Previously on iZombie...

Renegade's operation turns more humans into zombies

than all other carrier outfits combined.

You bring me Renegade,

you go back to running your establishments in peace.

We need to be focused on our very massive brain shortage.

If you fail in that, the 10,000 zombies we made

will come for your head.

Well, word is that watered-down brain tubes are being sold for 40 bucks a pop

in the back-alleys in Seattle

because you've got a leak in your food chain.

I would've gotten you out sooner, but I had to pick the right time.

Nothing keeps us McDonoughs down.

Dino got him out. He's the only one who knew.

Find him and deal with him.

The smuggling of humans into Seattle and creation of new zombies

stops today.

I need you to gather whoever's left in Mama Leone's organization.

We're gonna pick up where she left off.

_

Beth's e-mail said she was frail from the chemo,

but strong enough to carry her 1-year-old.

Good. They don't gun down babies.

I like the wall for this one.

You, uh... You sticking with the wig and the tan?

- That's smart. - There's still our other problem.

Brains.

Mama had a guy at zombie services.

He slipped us ID cards,

so our transplanted zombies could get brains

at the Fillmore Graves dispensaries.

Mama's guy went AWOL.

Have you two heard about Brother Love's Zombie Salvation Show?

- Brother Love? - Yeah.

Some zombie preacher I keep hearing about.

Preaches zombie pride.

And he gets brains for the needy.

All pro bono.

Bourbon, neat.

What's that?

Bermuda Rose.

It's gin. And grenadine. And...

It's pink. It's pink, Seth.

Are you looking for a big, strong man to take you home tonight?

Dump it. Get rid of it.

Scale of one to ten, what would you say you are?

Um...

Be honest.

Six?

- Five? - Sure. Yeah, five.

Do what I say and you'll be pulling sixes and sevens.

What's she?

A goddess.

I know. She goes to my gym. I'm in love with her.

Oh, Seth.

You've taught me so much. Can't we just go over there, break the ice?

Her friend's not bad.

Max. Your website said...

My website didn't mention love.

That's not what this is about.

Yeah. Sure. Fine.

- Yeah? - Let's do it.

- Here. - What's this?

It's peacocking. You're standing out from the crowd.

This says you are your own man.

- I don't know. - Wear it.

Okay.

All right. Here we go.

What do we do first?

Undermine her confidence. Make her desperate for our approval.

My man.

Ladies. I'm Max. Meet my friend, Seth.

He's a black belt in Jiu-Jitsu, so don't make him mad.

When he's not kicking ass, he handles corporate accounts at Sun-West,

the largest timeshare management company on the West Coast.

Hey, Seth. Cool scarf.

Hi.

We go to the same gym.

I'm always right behind you in spin class.

Good to know.

Uh, I'm surprised to hear you actually go to the gym.

- What? - Well, you have one of those bodies

that's, uh, you know...

What?

It's a compliment. You're curvy.

Curvy means fat.

Feel this.

It tickles.

Last night was... Wow.

You were right.

I almost walked away from something really special.

Now, who's a little sleepyhead, huh?

One part of you is ready for the day.

Max?

Synced and corrected by hawken45 for www.addic7ed.com

_

Here's what we know so far.

Max Roberts, 39,

was found dead by a woman he brought home from the club last night.

Max wrote a popular blog called

Wet Willie's Sensitive Tips.

A how-to on seducing women.

But Roberts made most of his money as a wingman-for-hire.

That's a thing?

So you finally decided to get with the program, huh?

You tanned and dyed.

I figured, why fight it?

All the cool zombies were doing it.

Hmm.

Uh, you all look alike now, you zombies.

I can't even tell you apart.

What the hell is a "Weener Kleener?"

- I'll bet it gives you a cleaner weiner. - Hmm.

Morning after pills. And they say chivalry is dead.

- Oh. - King Colossus-brand condoms.

Look at this.

Whoa! God does give with both hands.

No, no, no. Up here.

See the rash on Max's stomach?

Couple that with the yellowing of his skin and my mind goes to poisoning.

Which means we probably already have our murderer.

Max's one-night stand from the club. Solved it!

I guess we should have sex.

Yeah. Why try and fight it?

There.

We don't have to have sex.

Phew. That was close.

Yay! No trace of neurosyphilis!

No. It's not all good news.

Max's stomach lining shows no sign of irritation.

It's gonna take me a while to pin down the exact method of poisoning.

Maybe a vision will get us there.

Blue 19! Omaha! Hut!

Go home. Suck down a brain tube.

Maybe drink water on occasion.

You don't tell me when to leave.

I'm Fillmore-Graves!

This is our town!

You're doing a bang up job.

_

Wanna know why I finally got to dust off my ol' wakizashi?

Not really.

You're the turncoat who got Blaine's dad out of the well.

Blaine's pissed. You'll see when he gets back.

Did you hear me? Not interested.

Classic Dino!

Sparkling conversationalist.

I worked with a mute,

and we had so much more fun.

Miss you every day, Chief.

Wanna know what I'm gonna do with you?

Not really.

I'm boxing you up

and I'm mailing you to Gwyneth Paltrow.

She'd think that's funny, right?

She seems cool.

Gwyneth would be all right.

Max was so charming.

He looked right into my eyes

and he said that he saw his future.

- Aw. - Ms. Lewis, we know Max was poisoned.

According to the coroner, the poison would've killed Max

within two hours of the dosing,

so unless anyone else was with you...

Like a...

Oh, don't make us spell it out. We're talking a tag team.

An Eiffel Tower. A Peter, Paul, and Mary.

What's your freak number, girl?

I'm sorry. That's not what I meant to suggest.

Wait.

You guys think I did this?

No one kills a guy that gives her multiple orgasms.

I'm not sure that defense will hold up in court.

- It's Amanda, right? - Yeah.

I like Mandy better.

Well, no one calls me that.

Mandy. You know our boy Max was a chubby chaser, right?

I'm not fat.

I'm curvy. Max said...

Excuse us.

I'm not fat.

What are you doing?

- I'm negging her, Clive. - Nagging?

No, no, no. Negging.

I'm undermining her confidence, so she'll be more vulnerable.

- Knock it off. - But...

It's highly doubtful that girl in there killed Max.

- Why's that? - Max was poisoned with atrocholine.

It's a toxic chemical commonly used to make optical glass.

But in his case, it was absorbed through the skin.

What's the one thing the killer knew

a womanizer would come into contact with?

- Ta-tas. - Mmm-mmm.

- Let's not do this. - Fine.

His condoms were poisoned, Clive.

Not a bad way to go. Who's with me?

General Mills hasn't said a peep about nuking Seattle,

since you smuggled his daughter into the city.

That's one problem solved on a very long list.

There's a brain shortage out there.

Most of our problems come back to that.

We've heard rumors that our own men are skimming brains

and selling them on the black market.

I want you to find out who's behind it.

You want me to find someone else to do it?

You give the order, I'll do it.

You just don't want to be a rat. Am I right?

Get over it.

There's one name I know.

Russ Roche.

Ugh! Roche is a dolt.

No way he's the ringleader.

I want you to buddy up to him...

Fun, fun.

If he likes hitting a colonic, you take him out for his-and-his colonics.

Make him a colonic-themed mixtape.

Just find out who's calling the shots.

Sir, is there a reason you think your office is bugged?

Yes.

Major.

Be careful with Roche.

He's not smart, but he is a killer.

_

Thanks for coming in, Ms. Zoe Ward.

You heard that Max Roberts was murdered?

That's what they told me.

Can you confirm whether you sent the deceased the following text?

"I hope your eggplant emoji falls off,"

and you drown in a pool of your own poop emoji.

"I hate your pig face emoji, you rooster emoji."

- I did. - Why?

Because I was hoping his eggplant would fall off.

Max Roberts was a vile creature.

- A predator. - A misogynist.

A complete dick.

That didn't stop you from saddling up and riding that stallion, did it?

To my eternal shame. Though, I have to say...

At least he was good at that.

If it hadn't been amazing, I wouldn't have been pissed that he ghosted me.

Oh God, no. Gross.

I didn't sleep with Max Roberts. Thank God.

Huh. I'm not surprised.

Max had a hard rule about sevens.

Okay... But he probably also had a hard rule against zombies.

You're a zombie?

Then can you explain why you texted Max,

"You're going to pay for what you did to me.

Butcher Knife emoji."

My friend sent that text.

She slept with Max, and then he blocked her number.

My phone was handy, so we had fun one night

passing the phone back and forth, sending him juvenile messages.

Can I get your friend's information?

One night we saw him at the club,

and he got all up in our faces like,

"You're not funny!"

Now get me out of this mess, Max.

Otherwise, we're both going down!

Here. That's her info.

Thanks. You're free to go.

Number ten.

So

A Fillmore-Graves soldier was screaming at Max...

"Get me out of some mess,

otherwise we'll both go down."

His name tag said "G. Marsh."

I'll track down this "G. Marsh."

Take your time.

All that sex talk made me horny.

Mind telling Ravi that I left early to tap some ass?

Yeah. I'll get right on that.

Tapping that ass.

The guys said the Triple Cross Church

is in a converted XXX theater.

The things I would do to you.

- XXX things? - Yes.

I mean, I get it. My ass is grade A.

But do you always come on this strong?

I am so sorry.

I'm solving the murder of this douchebag player.

Get tired of wearing a wig?

Yes, but I also thought our zombie pride preacher

would prefer this look.

Always thinking.

Well, this must be it. _

Hello?

Anybody here?

Come here. Look at this. The Teachings of Brother Love.

"Man shall offer himself to his zombie brethren,

and his brethren shall crack a man's skull and scoop his brains..."

- Whoa. What? - Or this...

"Those who wear the Fillmore-Graves uniform

are in league with the humans who would see us destroyed."

Okay. Maybe he's got a point on that one.

Brother Love!

Hello?

You have guests.

Wonderful news!

- Are you here for salvation? - Not exactly.

- Redemption! - No.

- Forgiveness? - We're here to talk about brains.

You're hungry.

- I should pat them down. - No need.

No need.

- I'm Brother Love. - Levon.

Levon.

- And you, my dear? - Liv.

Liv! Must be an angel.

With skin the color of the pearly gates,

and milky tresses to match.

As the Almighty intended. Natural.

You say you're hungry?

We're not asking for us.

We know a few newly-turned zombies

who can't get brains through official channels.

We heard you feed hungry zombies here.

I have a soft spot for the downtrodden.

Where do you get your brains?

Oh, donations from the dying, mostly.

And a few brain tubes that fall through the cracks at Fillmore-Graves.

A weekly free meal at Romeros.

Romeros? I know the owner,

- he's not exactly charitable. - You know my son?

Your son?

Yes, my son Blaine.

Quick as a whip. Voice of a nightingale.

Successful to boot. And single.

_

Still no word back from that friend of Zoe Ward,

the zombie who let her friend send threatening texts from her phone.

I think I banged that dude.

Chase Graves? Yeah, you banged him.

Ugh. I remember now.

He's gonna be all, "Oh, Liv, why didn't you call?

Didn't the bone sesh on my hotel room desk mean anything to you?"

Dudes. Look at him. Look how sad he looks.

That's probably a suicide note he's working on.

Look at you, Ms. Moore. Finally with the program!

It's over, dude. I don't know what you want me to say.

Detective.

We've been getting the runaround trying to track down

one of your men.

George Marsh. He's a person of interest in a murder investigation.

When was the murder?

Two days ago.

- And you think Marsh did it? - It's possible.

He's unavailable.

If you come back, I can have him here tomorrow.

Unavailable?

There's nowhere he could be that's more than 25 minutes from here.

And, yet, tomorrow is as soon as you can see him.

I need a minute for the toxicology report.

Liv changed the filing system.

The deceased are now arranged by hotness quotient.

You're on Tinder, Clive?

Clive? Tinder?

Wait! Does this mean you and Bozzio are dunzo?

No!

Relationships take work, Clive.

Look at me and Peyton.

We had a rough go, but we didn't give up.

It's not the same. We didn't cheat on each other.

No one cheated! We can't have sex together,

so we're in an open relationship.

Y'all wanted us to be the No Secrets Club.

Well, there you go.

Oh.

Did... Did you delete your matches?

What matches?

This is bad. This is really bad.

Why would you upload a photo of yourself

standing next to Seven-Foot Sven?

It's my police academy graduation.

I look good in a uniform.

That does it. I'm taking you out tonight, Clive.

I'm a phenomenal wingman.

I hate going out. Mmm-mmm, mmm-mmm.

Yeah, we know. It says so here in your list of "hates."

You also hate warm weather, and "This Is Us".

Yeah, it's emotionally manipulative.

Fine. I'll go.

You're emotionally manipulative.

Mmm. Oh, oh, where are my keys?

Uh, they're on my desk.

- One rule for tonight. - Hmm.

Given the brain she's on...

Don't tell Liv.

Is the record skipping or is the music supposed to sound like this?

Quick. Pound this.

Pound this one, too.

- I need a minute. - Pound it!

Oh, look at this. Coming our way. Coming our way.

Oh, God.

Hello, ladies.

Your money is no good here.

Let my friend and I buy you a drink.

- We're actually just... - Bartender!

- Yeah? - Bottle of vodka, yeah?

Your finest.

This is my friend, Clive. He's a homicide detective.

Me? I'm a coroner.

I know... What a fascinating pair of gentlemen.

They must have loads of stories.

Tell them how fascinating you are, Clive.

I'm riveting.

So, what's the craziest thing you've ever seen on a job?

Oh, Clive. You gotta tell this one.

You're the raconteur.

Oh, um, probably the middle-aged mom

who was smashed by a falling AC unit.

Brains and guts everywhere.

Children walking by splattered with blood.

Hey.

This is my boyfriend, Gunner.

And that's Julie's boyfriend, Stieg.

Let's ease into the splattered brain talk next time.

Is that where it went wrong?

I thought it was when

their Scandinavian He-Men boyfriends showed up.

Amateur hour is over boys.

Let's go get us some nasty.

_

Clive should be himself.

Only fun and less tightly-wound.

Oh, Clive should be another person.

A better person.

Just give me the hat, Liv.

I was hoping for a Frosty the Snowman moment.

And the instant we gave him the hat,

he would become full of life. He'd have swagger.

He'd be crackling with sexual magnetism.

What kind of perverse version of Frosty the Snowman

did they show kids in England?

Look.

You know, I could catch any D I want in this place.

Most of the guys in here are human.

They won't be when I'm making them brains for breakfast.

Just kidding.

I'm not gonna let them stay for breakfast.

Oh, code red. The herd has arrived.

That better be a photo of his penis.

Oh, and it looks like she's crying.

Okay, it probably is his penis.

Come on.

He was still waiting in line

when she got the Aleutian flu vaccine.

That's when he got the call about the zombie virus.

How sad is that?

Okay, baby dolls. I'm gonna need you to put out or get out.

Hit it or quit it. Hump or dump. Follow me?

You told them about Bozzio?

- I wanna be honest. - That is dumb.

I'm not gonna be a liar to get sex.

Good luck with that.

I'm done here.

Thanks for trying to help.

You blew it.

Think I'm gonna go catch that D I was talking about.

I think I'm gonna go home and make love to my girlfriend.

Don't be gross.

- Hey. - Hey.

I was in the neighborhood.

I thought maybe we could talk more strategy?

Save a few more lives?

Is that before or after you texted me, "Down to duck"?

I sent that text to like, ten other guys.

Don't read into it.

But are you?

Down to duck?

This isn't a good idea.

When you talk, it accentuates your double chin.

Are you negging me?

What do you think of my hat?

I think Kevin Federline wore it better.

Are you negging me?

No, I genuinely don't like your hat.

Liv, I'm not hooking up with you while you're on this brain.

Whatever. I don't care.

I'm like barely even interested in you.

I'm gonna get you a lift.

Fine, but can I at least see what my driver looks like?

Oh, never mind. Everyone's a ten if you keep your eyes closed.

I was wondering if you'd ever call.

Come in, Detective.

Are you freaking kidding me?

And you can probably guess what they say about me. Let's see.

Oh, I spend more time at the gym than I do at my desk.

I'm a demagogue who uses the city's tax dollars

to eat brains at Romeros.

One article.

In one newspaper.

I'm sorry, Commander. Can I ask what

Lillywhite is doing here?

Did he get some kind of promotion we weren't made aware of?

Huh?

Did I forget the paperwork?

I might have.

I've had my hands full.

Major is the new vice president of getting stuff done.

Which means he outranks any of you because,

well, he gets stuff done.

Everyone out.

Except my VP of getting stuff done!

You, get back in here.

Sir?

You made any progress with Roche?

Oh, I've lost 100 bucks to him playing pool,

buddying up to him

and we made plans to hit The Scratching Post next week.

What do you say we turn you into besties?

Take Roche's unit down to the offices

of the 206 Weekly and shut them down.

Do we have the authority to do that, sir?

We are the authority.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Oh, God.

You're in a hurry.

I thought I set my alarm.

This is bad. This is...

Really bad.

I've never done this.

How much?

Hey, any idea why Liv Moore would text me "Down to duck"

in the middle of the night?

My wife was pissed, I had to sleep on the couch.

No clue.

Ah.

Clive.

Called a few times.

Went straight to voice-mail.

My phone died.

I was worried.

I'm sorry.

Maybe we need to establish some ground rules.

Spending the night feels like there's emotions involved.

That's a good rule.

But, Dale?

There were no emotions involved.

Promise.

Did you make her your special breakfast?

I haven't asked for any details about the men you've been with.

Well, I haven't slept with anyone, Clive.

- I heard... - I went on some dates.

I made out with a guy.

All it did was make me miss you.

I guess we're really doing this.

Chase better walk in here with that zombie from your vision.

We gave him a day.

Hey, I just noticed.

That's the same outfit as last night, you dirty dog.

- You got some chick... - I don't wanna talk about it, Liv.

Thanks for waiting, officers.

I see this was a bit of a to-do.

Here's the man of the hour.

This is the guy?

That's the guy from my vision.

Marsh, the Seattle PD wants to know

if you magically defrosted yourself

and murdered someone a few days ago.

What year is it?

You haven't even been frozen a month, Marsh.

It's a long way from 2023.

Damn.

- Who got offed? - Max Roberts.

Max is dead?

How?

Poisoned condoms.

Perfect.

Well, as the commander can confirm, my alibi is airtight.

I had a vision of you berating Max.

Did that have something to do with your arrest?

Can't answer that.

My lawyer told me to keep my mouth shut.

I filed an appeal.

Marsh was found guilty of turning a human

into a zombie through sexual contact.

She reported him for not disclosing his status.

She told me she was a zombie.

Guess she was a bug chaser.

You hired Max to be your wingman

and that's when you hooked up with this "bug chaser"?

My lawyer was very clear on this.

Shut my mouth.

What was this woman's name?

Huma Kattan.

Thank you.

Looking good, Liv Moore.

You wish.

All right, look into it. Got anything else?

I've also been hearing these

weird things about a zombie church.

They say...

What the hell?

What is this all about, here?

- Are you in charge? - I'm the editor.

I need you to direct your people to shut down

their computers, pack up their personal belongings

- and exit the building. - Why?

- When can we return? - You can't.

Your newspaper is being closed down for the public good.

The public good?

Are you serious?

You're printing fake news.

That Mama Leone lady was making more zombies

when we can't feed the zombies we already have.

We are on the precipice of destruction at all times.

The old rules of freedom of the press no longer apply.

You! Do not take any computer equipment.

This includes any kind of hard drive,

thumb drive, memory stick.

It all stays here.

No. No way. If you're shutting us down, I'm taking my work...

What do you expect from the Chaos Killer?

That's my name, baby. Don't wear it out.

_

Thanks again. Bye.

No, it's Huma Kattan.

No?

All right, bye.

The DMV have no record of her either.

How does a zombie disappear from a walled city?

If you scratch me right now, what's the first thing I'd do?

Take Bozzio to Bone Town.

After that,

I'd go to the zombie services office for an ID card.

This Huma needed a card to get brain tubes.

They'd have her contact info.

That's it.

We'll go to zombie services, where they make ID cards,

on official police business!

How about we pop over during lunchtime,

so we create less of a disturbance.

Yeah, I guess.

You don't wanna go sooner?

Oh no. Lunchtime is good.

I may wanna sleep in.

I know how to get brains for the underground rail road.

I'm not falling for this again.

Douchebag brain has worn off, you can let me in.

Finally.

Clive and I are on a case,

blah, blah, blah, long story short,

we have to go to the zombie services office

on police business tomorrow.

I can steal what we need to create our own ID cards.

Everyone we smuggle into Seattle

will have access to brain tubes.

That's dangerous, Liv. If you get caught...

It's worth the risk.

Be careful, these guys smash zombie heads.

About last night.

Really embarrassed.

Water under the bridge.

No, I need to say this.

Sometimes, my job gets in the way of my personal life.

I'm on a lot of brains and in the past,

with guys I've dated it's caused problems.

I can roll with a few lousy brains.

In most cases, I would've welcomed sex-crazed brain,

but, you know, the first time, I thought, should be special.

I'm a little girlish that way.

What are you doing?

Shh... Let your body do the talking.

Oh, you... You are still on the brain, aren't you?

Don't hate the player.

You! Out! You made me feel cheap.

Whatevs. You are a bit girlish.

Text me if you have a change of heart.

All right, let's do this.

Let's.

I never thought I'd say this but I miss the fedora.

I'm peacocking, Clive.

I thought I explained this to you.

Donuts for the unsung heroes of Seattle.

Lots of zombie-friendly options.

Sure.

Thanks.

Cool-ass hat.

You're a cool-ass dude for noticing.

You're up to something, what is it?

It's called donuting. You know nothing, Clive Babineaux.

Hi, Jill.

We're with the SPD.

We're tracking down a person of interest in a murder investigation.

Her name is Huma Kattan and she recently became a zombie.

Can you help us with that?

Everyone's heading to lunch

but I can show you where the records are.

That would be great.

Zombie-friendly donuts. Get them here.

There's a file for every zombie in Seattle.

Some of them are passing for human.

Sadly, we're so understaffed

that files just get thrown back in there, willy nilly.

Kattan, right?

That's right.

Come on, come on.

Darn.

You may be in for the long haul.

Did you find Huma's file?

Nope.

Did they have mirrors in the bathroom?

Yes.

So you saw what you looked like and didn't take off the hat?

Lunch is ending. We need to hurry.

Why?

Because we don't wanna be in their way.

I was sitting there at lunch and I thought to myself,

what about those new zombie files that haven't been filed?

The ones we keep up front.

So, I hurried back.

Here, you go.

Thank you.

Well, well, well.

Does Huma look familiar?

That's Zoe Ward.

The zombie who said her friend

sent Max those threatening texts from her phone.

Yeah, well, I don't think there ever was a friend.

She's only been a zombie a few weeks.

So, when she went to get an ID card

she still went by the name Huma.

So Huma gets George Marsh

put away in the Fillmore-Graves freezer...

Then changes her name to Zoe Ward

and settles the score with the guy who taught George

how to seduce her.

She's our killer.

Sweet, let's go pick her up, right now.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Afraid I'm gonna have to take another look at what's inside that box.

Two donuts? You sure that's a good idea, big fella?

Think of all the hungry zombie cops back at the station

who you promised donuts?

They won't miss just one.

They will.

Take all you want, good sir.

Liv.

Do I wanna know what you're up to?

I think it's better that you don't.

Tell us why you changed your name

from Huma Kattan to Zoe Ward?

I'd just transitioned from human to zombie.

It's a big life change.

It was a new beginning.

What I have here is a transcript

from the Fillmore-Graves hearing that sent George Marsh

to the deep freeze.

"Huma asked for it."

"She knew George was a zombie, and she threw herself at him."

"She was a bug chaser."

"One of those girls who wanted to get with a zombie,"

"wanted to be a zombie."

That's what Max Roberts said on the stand.

Max Roberts is a pig and a liar.

He was a pig and a liar.

Max is dead and George is in a deep freeze.

Max introduced George to you, didn't he?

Yeah.

When did you find out that Max was a paid wingman?

An expert on seducing women?

When a friend showed me his column.

"Wet Willie's Sensitive Tips."

Repulsive, right?

Max was killed by a toxic substance used to make optical glass.

Where do you work, now?

Queen Anne Optometry.

How did you get the poisoned condoms to...

It was easy, I dressed up like a giant condom and

handed out free samples outside the club.

Made sure Max got a special box.

That's easy?

We'll need it in writing.

I wanted a normal life.

I wanted kids.

George took that away from me without my consent.

Max helped him and then went on the stand and humiliated me.

At least the son of bitch can't hurt any more women.

So, you know what?

They can stick me in the freezer for however long they want.

My life was over the moment I met Max Roberts.

Come on, Chase. It was a mistake.

Admit it and move on.

Shooting up a newspaper office, shutting them down,

it's like you're begging humans to riot.

- Are they rioting? - No reports of riots.

I'm placing a bet.

I'm betting that no one cares enough to take to the streets

over one rinky-dink alt-weekly closing its doors.

I suppose all the city's sex workers

will have to find a new place to advertise.

Shutting down the press over a critical story.

Isn't that what an autocrat does?

That's what I am.

You wanna know when democracy doesn't work?

It doesn't work when you're sitting on a powder keg.

It doesn't work when your people are starving.

It doesn't work when your entire species is on the brink of extinction.

So, you can lament the closing of the 206 Weekly.

But they tried to make a hero out of a woman who made it

harder to keep our population fed.

I want human smuggling stopped

so I can save lives.

I don't regret the execution of that woman.

I didn't ask if you did.

Your soldiers didn't just lock the doors of the 206 Weekly.

They terrorized the staff.

They caused thousands of dollars in damages...

Fake news.

Fake, huh?

- You didn't shoot up the place? - Nope.

You sure about that?

Lillywhite, clear this up. What happened?

The situation was under control

until reporters failed to follow instructions.

They became belligerent and attacked us.

The limited gunfire was warranted to control the situation.

So, there you have it.

Well, we always appreciate a visit from the mayor's office.

We need to do this more often.

Liv, it's street-cleaning tomorrow.

Better move your car or you'll get a ticket.

Liv?

Hello?

What the hell are you doing?