All language subtitles for iZombie - 04x03 - Brainless In Seattle (1).AVS-SVA.English.C.orig.Addic7ed.com

Previously on iZombie...

Having to bring you these little nuggets

of information like
I'm your stool pigeon

isn't exactly my style.

You know, I could just close
down your businesses.

These 17 syringes constitute the
world's entire supply of the cure.

Liv. The syringes. They're gone.

She scratched me!

Get back.

Hey, hey, stop that!

Dale and I, everything is
great, but for obvious reasons,

we can't be intimate.

This thing we've been doing...
Yeah, we can't do it anymore.

Not when I know that my
life choices so offend you.

There's enough in there to
cover the fee for the coyote.

You gotta buy off a lot of greedy people

to sneak people in and out.

You're Renegade?

Well, my friends call me Mama Leone.

_

Am I the first person
you snuck into Seattle?

Don't worry, I've done
this a bunch of times.

It's all gonna be all right.

Fire!

I'm freaking out. I can't...

Annie, look at me.

I've done this a million times.

You got this.

So now, Harrison Ford loves
millennials and haunted houses.

Hold on. What's this?

"Don E. And DJ Deep Cuts
present Scratch Up."

Human versus zombie night every
Tuesday night at The Scratching Post.

"Can't we all just get along?"

- This can't be real.
- Very real.

Very tone deaf. Very much
in their wheelhouse.

Exploiting the fragile state
of human-zombie relations

for a topical dance theme?

Blaine must be really
hard up for business.

Or, you know, he's Blaine.

Excuse me.

The victim was shot through the heart.

Point blank range, execution style.

The bullet is lodged in the wall there.

- Oh, one in the chamber.
- Right through the chamber.

Heart chamber. Medical humor.

The best jokes are the ones
you have to explain.

Sick burn.

Ballistics should be able to
match the bullet to a firearm

and narrow down the murder
weapon, but that's all they got.

I'm gonna need your A-game
on this one, Liv, even though

you don't have much to go on, literally.

Most of the victim's brain is missing.

What do you mean, missing?

I mean, someone tried to steal
the whole kit and caboodle,

but got interrupted.

So all you have to work with is...

The kit.

That does not look good
for human-zombie relations.

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Synced and corrected by hawken45
for www.addic7ed.com

_

Clive's theory holds.

Whoever did this was acting fast and
loose with one hell of a bone saw.

But the murder was so clean.

Why was the brain-robbing such a mess?

It could've been different culprits.

One guy's whack is another's snack.

Ready to have your minds blown?

Sorry, scratch that.

- Come on, mate.
- Too soon, bro.

Yeah. I got an ID on our murder victim.

Annie Wallace, 25 years old
from Johnson County, Kansas,

where she was living
until three days ago.

Her parents reported
her missing yesterday.

And from a preliminary investigation
into her recent Internet searches,

as well as a transfer of $25,000
into an untraceable account,

it's looking like Annie hired a
coyote to smuggle her into Seattle.

Why? She was perfectly healthy,
no need to be zombified.

Something must have brought her
here that was worth dying for.

Something or someone.

There's a Seattle number that
Annie called and texted non-stop.

A guy named Allan Fox.

Not sure what their relationship was,

but transcripts are on their way in,

along with Mr. Fox himself.

So you might wanna make
yourself a little snack.

It will be just a little snack,
thank you very much.

Because this has to last me a week.

Don't you always say you
wish you were on a diet?

I'm kidding.

I'm mocking people who say that.

That's how anti-diet I am.

I have bits about my hatred
of that lifestyle choice.

All right. You're hangry
and you haven't even started.

Wow. Allan Fox.

Did my heart love till now?

- Forswear it, sight...
- Liv!

For I never saw true
beauty, till this...

Liv,

Liv!

Was that a vision?

Yes, he is.

Is this about Annie? She tried to
cross into Seattle, didn't she?

- Why don't you take a seat, Allan?
- She did.

Uh, you know, I warned her. I
said, "Annie, don't do it. Don't.."

How do you know Ms. Wallace?

Um, we met online about a month ago.

Uh, well, uh, 29 days,
18 hours and 30...

six seconds ago. But
who's counting, right?

And, uh, how did you two meet exactly?

Oh, we met in a Bridget
Jones's Dairy chatroom.

Go on.

Oh, boy.

You know, there's a lot of, um,
rom-com obsessed women

on those sites. But Annie was different.

You know, she, uh... I mean, sure,
she was a hopeless romantic.

- Like me.
- Mmm-hmm.

A hopeless romantic, huh?

But we were both after the real
thing, you know. True love.

Can't sleep, uh, keep you up at night,

inconvenient, all-consuming,
lose your job,

and who cares anyway, because
who needs another telemarketer?

- Yeah. I think we get it.
- Love.

Lot of women who, uh,
who love Bridget Jones

say they want a Mark Darcy,

but are really hung up
on a Daniel Cleaver.

Or worse, you know, a Daniel Cleaver
who's posing as a Mark Darcy.

- The worst.
- Right? Yeah.

But I'm a real Mark Darcy.

- And Annie sees that.
- Saw that.

Oh, my goodness, I guess we're just
finishing each other's sentences.

Looking at these texts, you've
been planning your wedding,

your honeymoon and your kids' names

even though you've only known
each other for a month

and never met face to face.

You know how crazy that sounds?

- Sounds like true love.
- Oh, it is, yeah.

We're, um, soulmates.

Then why did you tell her
not to come to Seattle?

"I mean it, don't come here, Annie"

"Don't come to Seattle."

"Seriously, coming to Seattle
would be a terrible idea."

She talked about sneaking
into Seattle all the time,

thought it would be romantic.

Uh, but she doesn't live here, so she
doesn't know how dangerous it is.

I tried to dissuade her all the time,

and without getting into
the gritty details, but...

It sounds like it didn't work.

So where is she now?
Is she back in Kansas?

Is she in a holding cell? Can I see her?

Is she... She in trouble?

She's not in trouble, Allan.

She's dead.

Dead. No.

No.

Why don't we take five?

_

It's just not fair.

Tomorrow was our month anniversary.

I understand.

Most of my boyfriends
have died in terrible ways too.

But who knows? Maybe
you'll find someone new.

Sooner than you think.

Maybe they're right in front of your
face and you don't even know it.

Oh, sorry, there was a bug.

Hey, I have an idea.

Why don't you meet me tonight
at The Scratching Post?

Uh, I just want to be alone.

Watch The Notebook.

If you're a bird, I'm a bird.

What?

Sorry, the bug was back.

It was a spider
and it was pregnant, so...

Oh, my God. Did you get it?

Oh, yeah, yeah, no, I saw it hobble off.
I maimed it. We're good.

- Where?
- Uh, over there!

Allan? Allan, I know you're
going through a lot right now.

But human-zombie night at The
Scratching Post is only once a week.

And I think Annie would want you to find
your next Bridget Jones, don't you?

I think she'd want me to wait a day.

Allan!

You're free to go for now,
but don't travel far.

Not that you can.

So, see you tonight?

Oh!

Am I fatter than Annie?

Liv, I know you're on a flighty romantic
brain, but I need you to focus.

You cannot see Allan
outside of this case.

I think he may be our guy.

But I'm 100% sure he's innocent.

Based on what?

The fact that he may be
my future soulmaul.

He may be a future inmate, Liv.

You've know him for 45 minutes!

You know, I'm not going down
this rabbit hole with you.

We need to find Annie's coyote.

He was one of the last
people to see her alive,

so he may have seen her killer too.

The problem is, coyotes aren't
generally that easy to find.

Love always finds a way.

Actually, I may know someone.

I'll try to get a hold of her.

- Sir.
- Not a good time, Major.

There's been a scratching.

An accidental one.

Been trying to get to you for days.

Your office won't give me ten seconds.

If Alice can resist your charm, she's
better than I thought she was.

- What am I looking at?
- A lawsuit.

Our cadet Jordan Gladwell
accidentally scratched

an aggressive human during a call.

Now his family is suing her
for wrongful death.

She's panicking.

Plus Fillmore-Graves is
listed as a defendant.

Good luck with that.

I'm more concerned with the
extra mouth I have to feed.

There's also a video.

She scratched him in rage mode.

In uniform.

Has it been leaked?

Not yet.

- Keep it that way.
- Yes, sir.

Thank you, Alice.

Good morning.

Found this on my windshield an hour ago.

Has anyone heard of it?

Apparently, the Darwin
Project is offering

unimaginable wealth to zombies

willing to try to escape Seattle

and volunteer their bodies for research.

Could be a pharmaceutical company,

could be another terrorist organization,

could be a ragtag team
of indie filmmakers.

I don't know. I don't care.

I just want them snuffed out.

Sir? All due respect,

zombies leaving Seattle
is the US Army's problem.

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

It's serious.

We've got undocumented humans
being scratched by coyotes.

Fewer humans than we expected
are donating their brains.

And those brains that do come our way,

too many are falling off the trucks.

How long do we have?

Four to six months.

That's when we'll
start seeing mass starvation,

zombies turning...

Look, no one's gonna blame you
for the Darwin Project.

But you're supposed
to feed these people.

And if you fail in that,
the 10,000 zombies we make

will come for your head.

Chase Graves is here. Is that normal?

Should I bring him a hooker?

I'm good with water.

Thank you.

Little dark in here.

- It's a basement.
- I'm afraid of the ambiance.

The look, the touch, the smell...

- The smell?
- Decay.

- Trapped.
- We're dead, Chase.

Maybe it's your upper lip.

Look, I don't have anything
for you at the moment.

- Well, I have something for you.
- A decorator?

Have you heard of a coyote
who calls himself Renegade?

No.

Well, Renegade's operation
turns more humans into zombies

than all other coyote outfits combined.

The city's brain rations
are suffering as a result,

which means that shutting down
Renegade is a top priority.

So here's the deal.

You bring me Renegade,

and you can go back to running
your establishments in peace.

And I never have to deal
with you ever again?

Consider it your final favor.

Consider it done.

_

Get ready to get happy, my friend,

because I have got some real
beauties for you today.

I have medulla, frontal,
occipital, and cerebellum.

I have brain stem and,

ooh, one last basal ganglia.

No temporal lobe?

Mmm. Just sold out of temporal.

Sold out? Who got first dibs?

Well, I got a big order from
Le Dome this week, okay?

Hey, you wanna put in an
advance order, be my guest.

Give me the profiles

and a free sample or two before
I take my business elsewhere.

Romeros does not take
Le Dome's sloppy seconds.

Ooh! Hit me with some
of that mime brain.

Ooh. That...

Ooh, is my medulla with just a splash

of cortisol from the adrenal gland.

Mmm.

I'm just kiddin'.
It hasn't kicked in yet.

But I do love mimes. That's
good blue brain material.

What else is good?

Catch of the day.

I like that.

That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.
Which one is that?

Love-struck Midwestern belle

with a heart of gold.

No relation to the dead girl
of the same name

- that everyone's freaking out about.
- Oh.

I'll take the whole thing.
Or whatever's left.

Well, my supplier said it
was a bit of a rush job.

- That's it?
- Yeah.

That's it. Next time, don't take
the business to the competition.

Ooh, so sensitive.
What are you, my girlfriend?

Okay. Okay.

You know what? I'll throw
in a little architect brain

on the house. Pun intended.
Very creative. Very funny.

You see? That's customer service.

Dalton. Got a minute?

You deal directly with
the coyotes, right?

You buy from them and you
sell to whoever you sell to?

Blaine. You know I always
come to you guys first.

But Led me out this week.

Somebody had a sweet 16
at Fillmore-Graves...

You ever deal with a
coyote named Renegade?

- Heard of her.
- Her?

Yeah, that's the word.

But, you know, her clients
always make it to Seattle alive.

So our paths have no cause for crossing.

You know anybody who deals with
her directly or knows her at all?

Mmm, she's, you know, not
really in our circles.

Hmm.

But actually... Yeah,
you know what, um...

When I was at Le Dome earlier,
I overheard this new zombie,

uh, at the bar. He was
flapping his lips about

how he jumped the wall
when he was at death's door

and how some old broad scratched
him and saved his life.

Okay. Bring me that guy,

and you can add two zeros to
whatever you just charged us.

Damn. Sure thing, boss.

- Oh, and Dalton?
- Hmm?

I don't care if the sultan of
Malaysia is having a bar mitzvah.

You never, and I mean never,

go to Le Dome before us.

- Thank God you're here.
- Whoa. What's going on? Are you okay?

Liv's insisting I go with
her to human-zombie night

at The Scratching Post.

She said she met her soulmate today.
And he'll be there.

But it sounds like he's a murder
suspect she talked to for an hour.

What brain is she on?

Hopeless romantic with a
penchant for rom-come.

I caught her practicing
meet cutes today with a corpse.

You gotta wingman me then.

I can't go alone to Blaine's club.

There is not enough
alcohol in the world.

I am flattered.

Really, it's... It's an
honor to just be nominated.

But, um... I nearly killed
myself rushing over,

because when I get a text that
says, "Emergency, come over,"

I expect a degree
of life or death stakes.

Not a night out at the club.

So, uh, hard pass.

No, no.

- You have to come.
- You can't make me.

- Ravi!
- Come on, please...

- No, you're coming.
- Ravi!

Are you coming with us?

Oh, this is gonna be so much fun.

You're not wearing that, are you?

Yeah...

That's just it. I've nothing to wear.

So, very sadly, looks like I'm
gonna have to sit this one out.

Unless we do a makeover!

What?

Makeover! Makeover! Makeover!

No...

Come on, Liv.

Eh?

Love it.

Oh, yes.

Ooh.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

What is going on here?

Dude, my shirt.

Sorry, mate. Fashion casualty.

We're going to human-zombie
night at The Scratching Post.

- Why?
- Major...

There is no easy way to tell you this,

but I've met someone and I think
he may be the love of my life.

I've had a very long day unsuccessfully
tracking down an incriminating video.

Plus we're in a fight, so...

I'm gonna go make myself a burrito.

He is so brave.

_

I don't think he's here yet.

Well, I need a drink. Shall we?

Yeah, actually, I, uh,
I think I might take this

makeover out for a quick spin first.
So, uh...

You can't just leave me.

I'll see you in a few.

Whoo!

Scratch-up forever!

- Is Blaine here?
- No.

Good. A shot of tequila and then
turn up the song, it kicks ass.

- And...
- I'll have what she's having.

I can't wait to see Allan
and look deeply,

sensually, into his eyes.

Wanna open a tab?

- Blaine lets us drink here for free..
- Ahh...

I can feel it, Peyton.

The twirling forces of fate and destiny

burning inside me, tickling my loins.

Hmm. Like bad sushi.

Oh, we should go on
a double date next week.

Does Derek like picnics?

Mmm.

Keep 'em coming.

What do you think is more romantic,

a spring wedding or a fall wedding?

Of course, you'd be my maid of honor.

I'm thinking nectar for the dresses.

That would look good
with your skin tone, yeah?

Liv, it's... It's getting
pretty late. Huh?

Fashionably late.

Classic Allan.

Do you think there's anywhere
to honeymoon in Seattle

that doesn't feel like, "Help,
I'm trapped here forever"?

You've met him once,

he's human,

and he probably murdered
his last girlfriend.

Nobody's perfect.

- Liv...
- Peyton...

Human-zombie relationships can work.

Look at Blive and Cozzio.

You know?

I'd rather read a book.

You know, I thought you
and Ravi had true love.

No.

Definitely not.

Let's go dance.

I'm afraid if I dance,
I'll miss Allan coming in.

Or I will vomit.

Okay.

I thought Allan was my soulmate,

but maybe Peyton was right.

Maybe Allan is just a murder suspect

who's just not that into me.

Hey.

- Let's go.
- What?

No, you have to dance. We just
requested your favorite song.

I don't know, I just feel stupid.

Like I'm the biggest loser in here.

You are not the biggest loser in here.

Ravi, show her.

See?

This robot is the biggest loser here.

That was a robot?

Oh, they're playing it.

- Let's dance.
- Come on.

- I'm sorry.
- You okay?

And just like that,
I was shot with Cupid's arrow.

Again.

Wow. This new person.

Did my heart love till now?

Forswear it, sight.

For I never saw true beauty, till...

So, I see you're part of the blue crew.

We're twinsies.

- I'm Liv.
- Tim.

- Tim.
- You're really beautiful.

Could this be it?

My one true love? My soulmate?

Where'd Liv go?

Oh, there she is.

Oh, my God!

It's like watching R2-D2 stick his
extension arm into the Grand Canyon.

- Sick robot callback.
- Ooh!

_

Liv, what's... what's wrong?

Tim wrote his number
on my hand last night,

and it smeared off and now it's gone.

Tim. Tim!

Liv, I'm sure you can find
another way to contact him.

How? I don't know his last name.

I don't know where he works.

All I know is he has these
piercing emerald eyes

and the smooth, velvety lips
of a sex angel.

And that's not exactly something
you can Google, is it?

Not if you don't wanna see
stuff you can't unsee.

Thus with a kiss I die.

Again.

Aren't you forgetting a certain

four-letter word that starts with "F"?

Funk?

Fart?

- I give up.
- Fate.

If it's true love,
you'll meet again. Right?

Even if it means we go back to
human-zombie night next week.

I actually had a surprisingly fun time.

And I like supporting you
in your romantic endeavors

when you don't meet them through
Clive's murder investigations.

Oh, no.

- What?
- I almost forgot.

I saw Bozzio last night
at The Scratching Post.

She was cheating on Clive.

Oh, that's terrible. You're sure?

- Yeah.
- You think he'd wanna know?

Clive won't eat soup dumplings
because they have too many secrets.

So, yeah, I do.

Clive would want to know
that Bozzio's being unfaithful.

So why does the thought of telling
him leave my stomach in knots?

Because it'll break his heart.

Liv, glad you're here.
Wanna show you something.

Hey, Liv.

Dale. Cute nam n Dale.

Always reminds me of that mentally
impaired cartoon chipmunk.

You know, the one who was always
going on adventures with Chip,

but was really just a dead weight
holding him back?

Sorry, child of the '80s,

way after your time.

Okay.

Fun talk.

Uh, I will see you later?

Yeah.

You okay?

You seem tense.

I'm fine. Let's just focus on work.

I thought we were.

Remember that woman who I hoped
would lead us to Annie's coyote?

Well, I left messages for her,

I even stopped by her place and she's
not answering, so that's a no-go.

Well, I, on the other hand, found
out something interesting.

Looks like Allan forgot to mention

that he's a pretty avid gun collector.

He even moonlights as a shooting
instructor on the weekends.

Who's Allan?

The guy you were in love with yesterday.

- This guy.
- Oh, right.

Daniel Cleaver posing as a Mark Darcy.

The worst.

Glad to hear you moved on.

Ballistics should have a report
for us by tomorrow morning

with weapon matches from the bullets.

Uh, I'm anxious to see if they match
any one of Allan's sundry guns.

Who's that?

Oh, a new uni.

- Michelle, I think. Why?
- She's pretty.

- Hmm. Okay.
- Don't you think she's pretty?

- Okay...
- Let's go introduce ourselves.

- Why?
- It's a nice thing to do.

She's in the middle of training.

It'll take like five seconds. Come on.

I bet she's smart too. Kind, confident.

The kind of girl who binges Game
of Thrones and loves the Knicks.

Liv, why are you selling me this woman

like you're trying
to set me up with her?

I'm not.

I just think it's possible

that you would have a lot in common.

And I'm sure she could use
a friend in the department.

She also looks like
she'd make a great mother.

Hi! Sorry to interrupt.

I'm Olivia Moore and this
is Detective Clive Babineaux.

Hi.

We just saw that you were new and
wanted to introduce ourselves.

I work in the morgue and Clive

is originally from Brooklyn.
He has an older sister

who he's very close with and...

- he owns a condo downtown.
- Liv!

He's also very modest.

Much as I appreciate the warm
welcome that I never received,

we're a little busy at the moment.

Liv, come on.

Cockblock.

- What did you say?
- I said...

How's your wife, Cavanaugh?

Fine.

Mmm-hmm. Don't worry, you got this.

You got this.

We call that a brain vision.

Chapter 14, section eight.

Cool. It was nice meeting you.

And your angry friend.

Liv, it better be a good one,

because I'm starting to forget
why I put up with this.

I saw Annie's coyote.

And just like that,
she lives another day.

I just think Clive's in denial.

I mean, I love the guy, but he
has a lot of pride, you know?

- Hair color?
- Brown.

Medium-length. Pretty straightforward,

unlike Bozzio, that two-timing wench.

This coyote have any
facial hair? Beard, stubble?

Whiskers?

- Get it?
- 'Cause coyotes have whiskers?

- Did he have a beard or not?
- No.

Also, Clive did not seem totally
opposed to the idea of Michelle.

He kind of pretended like he was,

but I know when he
thinks someone's cute.

Any freckles, moles,
defining characteristics?

A ton. Clive's a catch.

That's part of what makes this
whole thing so upsetting.

He deserves to be happy.

Liv, we're so close. Stay with me.

Any facial marks or blemishes?

He had a freckle on his left
cheekbone. I think that's it.

Wow. I honestly wasn't sure if
I was gonna make it home on this one.

This was my odyssey, but...

- Here it is.
- That's him. He's perfect.

You're into this human-zombie smuggler?

Oh, no, this is Tim, my new boyfriend,

and also, probably the love of my life.

I thought the love of my life
was this other guy, Allan,

but it turns out, he was
probably Annie's murderer.

Talk about sliding doors.

But, yeah, we should also knock out
that coyote sketch while we're here.

"Kiss me."

"Kiss me as if it were the last time."

Fate. It could bring
Tim and me together,

or tear us apart.

I wish I could just skip to the ending.

Hello?

I heard you were looking for me.

_

Rex said you needed my help
on a murder case.

We're looking for the coyote who
brought our victim into Seattle.

We're hoping he can ID the murderer.

Bruce. He runs with a really bad crew.

Bad how?

They lure desperate people
over the wall to kill them,

steal their brains,
their organs, their phones.

Empty their bank accounts.

Sometimes, they'll ransom them
to their loved ones at home.

But they never send them back.

You think this guy Bruce
was trying to do all that?

That's hard to say.

What was her name? The victim.

Annie.

I wish she had found me instead.

How do I find Bruce?

You get lucky.

His people operate on the deep web,

almost impossible to trace.

So what do we do?

We cry, we mourn.

And we never forget the Annies.

Ever.

Well, look what the cat dragged in.

Am I a man of my word?

A gentleman and a scholar.

This is Anthony. And Anthony, this is...

- The blue brain guy.
- Mmm.

Can't wait. What a place.

Last time I was in one of
these joints was 20 years ago

when I cheated on my
wife with a stripper.

Went by the name of Roxy,
gave me gonorrhea.

But hey, what doesn't kill you, huh?

I love a man with a positive attitude.

Smells nice. What is that?

I'm getting, uh, cotton blossom
with a hint of carrot cake.

Red pomegranate. Please.

Dalton just went to
get some blue brains.

- Oh.
- He'll be back soon.

- So...
- Mmm.

Dalton tells me you're new
to the zombie lifestyle.

That's right, yeah.
Suck it, Parkinson's.

And you were scratched
by the famous Renegade?

- Is that what they call her?
- It is.

It is.

But I'm more interested
in what they don't call her.

Her real name,

her current base of operations,

you know, that sort of thing.

Huh.

Uh...

I swore not to reveal
anything about her,

and, well, I owe that woman my life.

Well, I heard you were blabbing your
whole life story all over town.

That you were a man with no secrets.

Well, stuff about Renegade,
that's not my secret to tell.

I'm no snitch.

Ah, you wouldn't have to be
a snitch, Anthony.

But I think it's in your best interests.

But, hey, nobody's forcing you.

What's that?

I'm so glad you asked.

These are cures for the zombie disease.

Sixteen of them.

Bull-pucky.

Even if they are,

I'm not selling out Renegade for a cure.

Let me spell out your limited options.

You could stay a zombie,

and we could do this the easy way, or...

We could turn you back into a human.

And do it the hard way.

So what'll it be?

The VC didn't get jack from me in 'Nam.

You won't be getting anything either.

Oh.

Ballistics report came in.

None of Allan's guns were a match.

Looks like that coyote Bruce is our guy.

He was chasing her out of some building

with an incinerator.
But that could be anywhere.

I figured this is where
he caught up with her.

Liv.

This is it.

Ooh.

Liv. Liv, come here.

Looks like Bruce did this
with all of his customers.

- And Annie was...
- The one that got away.

Or almost got away.

We're dealing with a serial killer.

And I thought fate was a bitch.

_