Previously on iZombie...
what are you?
There are zombies in the world, Peyton.
And I'm one of them.
Once Super Max hits shelves, you'll be untouchable.
Assuming we're not mid-zombie apocalypse.
Our surveillance has paid off.
- Hey, roomie. - We've solved the zombie problem.
And how's that?
We've located the instrument of their destruction.
So I showed up to train a new client today, and he was a zombie.
I knew. My hair stood on end.
Those 322 people are suspected zombies.
- You want me to kill them? - Yes.
You've got the wrong man for the job.
We do know of one zombie, Liv Moore.
I've got you over a barrel, big guy.
Utopium. We need to get more of this.
- Major? It's me. - Kinda busy.
Remember at the Botox party,
how she was going around behind my back,
telling everyone I was a bitch?
So I called her on it.
Today at lunch. Ha! She flat-out denied it. Can you believe it?
Oh, my God! What did you do?
I threw my drink in her face and I walked out.
I mean, I love that woman, but she is just too much drama.
Hold on, sweetie.
Hi. I'm Alex Towne, with Montlake Realty.
Are you the owner?
Because I have a client who is looking for a home just like this.
I'm sorry, Mr. Towne, my husband and I aren't looking to sell.
That's too bad.
For the right property,
my client is willing to make an all-cash offer of $10 million.
May I see the view?
Spectacular, isn't it? And private.
Which is rare, even in this neighbor...
Taylor, honey? Hello?
Did he say 10 million?
She must have taken quite a fall.
The other implant burst on impact.
German. Top of the line.
DOA's name is Taylor Fowler, age 38.
Wife number two of Terrence Fowler.
He started the warehouse liquor chain Booze of the World.
Taylor married well.
And died hard.
The fall fractured her C3 and C4 cervical vertebrae,
resulting in spinal shock.
Pretty amazing the guy she took down with her is still alive.
Technically. He's in a coma.
The hospital's not optimistic he'll ever come out of it.
What?
Carpal tunnel. Sorry.
I also learned our coma guy's name is not Alex Towne,
realtor, despite the business card we found in his front pocket.
He's Joe Fricano, a small-time mope with a history of larceny.
Hmm. A thief posing as a realtor. Seems like a lateral move.
Unless he was trying to case a house from the inside.
We found a printout of Taylor's Facebook page
with a profile photo in Joe's pocket.
He wrote her Pilates schedule on it.
I think we're looking at a murder-for-hire.
All we have to do is figure out who did the hiring.
If only contract killers filed W-4s.
It's the spouse.
We know that's your default theory.
I'm trying to bring him in for an interview,
but Terrence Fowler is a very busy man
with a very fancy lawyer.
While he tries to find a mutually agreeable time,
I've got the real Alex Towne coming in later.
Want to see if that sparks anything?
Sure.
Hey, later-later, like Friday,
I was thinking we could all
grab a drink after work, maybe get a bite to eat?
I mean, if you guys are free.
It's just been a while since we got together.
Friday's tricky, yeah.
I've been seeing Stephanie.
You know, the girl I met at the club.
Been seeing a lot of her, actually.
She's trying to get Friday night off work
so she can fix me a home-cooked meal.
Turns out, right,
she's got this whole Martha Stewart side to her.
Which, combined with her raw honesty
and lack of intellectual pretense
is giving me a sense of emotional intimacy
I've not felt in a long time, you know?
Can't. Busy.
God, I thought he'd never shut up.
Moving on to your more immediate dining plans...
I've never had a lady-who-lunches for lunch.
She looks as tasty as she was tasteful.
Shouldn't you be working on something
other than your pectoralis majors, Major?
You just missed my lower body circuit.
You know what? I think of you every time I squat.
Oh, you mean the list.
Don't worry, I'm on it.
I crossed another name off this morning.
- Not a zombie? - Not a zombie.
Just a normal human being.
I'm allowed to not kill those, right?
You're cute.
But Vaughn Du Clark expects results.
Does a patient man invent an energy drink?
I'd be happy to let him take over the zombie eradication detail.
Just say the word.
Let me tell you a story.
When we first came up with the Suspected Zombie List,
Vaughn's idea was to send them all letters,
zombies and non-zombies alike,
informing them they'd won an all-expense-paid Hawaiian cruise.
And then scuttle the ship in the middle of the Pacific.
Your work,
distasteful as you find it,
saves lives.
Move too slow, he'll happily revisit plan B.
To think that some criminal would use my card
and my reputation as a specialist in luxury properties...
He probably picked it up at one of your open houses.
Well, I host four or five of them each weekend.
I'm happy to help.
But I doubt I'll be able to remember one looky-loo.
Liv, anything you want to ask?
Yes.
Your bag. Is it a Stella?
- Timeless, isn't it? - I can't even...
I wasn't sure if it would be appropriate for a police interview.
It's perfect.
It's businesslike, but with an informality
that says, I am not a suspect.
Here's our killer.
He's the one who used your card. You recognize him?
Actually, I do.
He came to my showing of a Mercer Island contemporary.
Oh, 4,000 square feet.
Chef's kitchen.
Great flow.
I found him poking around in a night stand in the master bedroom
and I asked him to leave.
Any idea what was he looking for?
A souvenir, I assumed.
The owner is one of Seattle's most eligible bachelors.
Vaughn Du Clark.
Max Rager CEO, Vaughn Du Clark?
He's Seattle's most eligible bachelor?
You need to rethink your ranking.
Just hearing his name makes me need a full body detox wrap
and an ear canal flush.
Once more around the park, James? No?
Let me out, please!
I won't press charges!
Just take me to an ATM!
I'll give you as much as you want! Please!
Don't hurt me. Don't hurt my dog.
I never saw your face.
I can't identify you, I promise.
Let me out!
I'm confused. Is this the Seattle morgue or a Milan catwalk?
You like?
It's my roommate's.
I literally had nothing to wear
until she gave me a free pass to raid her closet.
I thought this was a good look for work
because I wear this dress like someone's paying me to.
Oh, as do I with this.
Ready to go hang Vaughn Du Clark's ass
from the highest tree?
When rich wives get killed, it's either about money or sex.
Vaughn has no motive.
That we know of, yet.
Don't forget he offed a reporter
who dug too deep into Max Rager business.
- We couldn't prove that. - Prove-schmove.
Arranging a murder is well within his skill set.
You know it. I know it.
- I know it. - It's known.
The spouse is still our number one suspect.
Terrence agreed to come in later for an interview.
It turns out he sits on the Max Rager board, so maybe...
Are you kidding with this? The Max Rager board.
Hello? That's our Taylor-Vaughn connection.
Vaughn's our guy.
What I was going to say is,
maybe Vaughn can tell us something that'll incriminate Terrence.
You ever think about a pocket square,
a little splash of color?
Every time I get dressed.
Of course I knew Taylor.
Terrence brought her to board functions from time to time.
The woman was a real hoot, let me tell ya.
Always keeping waiters on their toes, always getting her way.
You know what would be great? If I could get a sparkling water
with a little lime, s'il vous plait.
Thank you.
What were Taylor and Terrence like at these functions?
Entitled, vain. They fit right in.
As a couple, were they combative? Affectionate?
How much affection do you ever really see
for couples who are married so long?
There's a reason I'm not getting hitched, Detective.
Because you can't legally marry your own reflection?
Burn.
Your real estate agent caught the man who killed Taylor
going through your drawers at your open house.
Seems weird, doesn't it?
Yes, it does.
Totally weird.
What's your relationship with Terrence like?
How would you describe him as a board member?
Rich. Wanting to be richer.
I can work with that.
Your three o'clock's here.
Oh, no, no, no. Not yet.
Not yet.
Not yet!
Ms. Moore? Are you still with us?
My eyes. They burn.
- Do you know what she's talking about? - Occasionally.
I'm talking about yot dirty little tantric secret.
So, how many times did you have sex with Taylor?
Is that your attempt to trip me up? Huh?
Zero, Ms. Moore. Zero.
We were not lovers,
and at the risk of sounding like a cliche,
I prefer younger women.
Blonder women.
Are you just gonna let him talk to me like that?
Like what?
I am not your little whore!
Okay. I suppose we're done.
I'm really starting to believe that you don't like me, Ms. Moore.
Major?
Oh, you two know each other?
Hey, Liv.
New nails?
Now you're talking to me? Because I'm kinda busy.
Sound familiar? And, yes, they're new.
The color is called "sorry, fiance".
And I might be in love with it.
Like you care.
As long as I've got you,
I had a few more questions about the Meat Cute incident.
Oh, did you get re-assigned to the Solved Crime Squad?
Clive, can you just give us a moment?
Liv, I don't think this is the time...
Listen to me, mister.
It's one thing to blow me off when I drop by without calling
and you're upstairs in your room doing God knows what.
But how can you be here, working for him?
I've got to make a living, you know.
I was training a guy who worked here.
He gave me some positive word-of-mouth,
so a bunch more started coming to me.
I go where the work is.
Was just following orders.
That's what Nazis say.
- You're being a little ridiculous. - I'm what?
You, too, pal? She's a pistol.
I'm so sorry, Major. It's not me. It's the brain.
Major. Let's go to work.
Take me to church!
One of us needed to slap him.
What happened back in Vaughn's office?
I assume you had one of your psychic visions
that told you Vaughn was sleeping with Taylor?
Yeah. The kind I would like to erase.
The man has sex with an ankh necklace on.
On a leather cord.
Damn it.
Terrence's lawyer just pushed the interview, time TBD.
And he's insisting we do it at his house.
I hate rich people. I do.
I screwed up bad, Clive.
With Major? Did you?
I can never tell what the end goal is with you two.
When Killer Joe wasn't pushing women off balconies,
he installed car stereos.
We need to drop by his job and see
if we can establish how Terrence came to hire him.
Or how Vaughn came to hire him.
Yeah.
So you had no idea Joe was mixed up in anything illegal?
No.
You recognize either of these guys?
Either one bring their cars in?
- No. - Nuh-uh.
Joe did a huge install for some mystery guy at his house, though.
If you're rich enough, we'll come to you.
Well, somebody's gotta know the client's name.
Our manager will know, but he's out on some salmon fishing trip.
He'll be back in a couple days.
Have your manager give me a call when he gets back to town.
Terrence wants to meet with us now.
I'll just wait here.
For you to pull up the car.
What am I, Driving Miss Crazy?
I didn't know I'd be walking today.
This is more of a sitting shoe.
Super cute though, huh?
Look how long they make my legs look.
You need to use those long legs and get yourself to my car.
That is quite a view.
Yup, that's Mount Rainier.
Taylor used to text me "TMO".
The mountain's out.
How would you describe your relationship over the past few weeks?
Happy.
Oh, we were planning to celebrate our 10th anniversary
next month with a trip to The Turks and Caicos.
And those are reservations I can call and check on?
Of course. My assistant can get you the pertinent numbers.
- Meg! Get them my vacation details. - Yes.
Where were you at the time of the murder?
Forgive me, the past 36 hours have been a blur.
Meg?
- You were with your personal stylist. - Oh, right.
I was looking over some things she had picked out for me.
I'll need her number, too.
Now that's how you rock a pocket square, by the way.
Are we almost done here, Detective?
Almost, Harry.
What can you tell me about
your wife's affair with Vaughn Du Clark?
I'm sorry. Did you not know about their affair?
I'll take that as a no?
So help me, I'm gonna...
Now we're done.
That certainly looked like a man
who just found out his wife was cheating on him.
He's definitely capable of violence.
I'd hate to be Vaughn Du Clark.
Trying it out for size?
You had to screw Taylor Fowler?
Her husband represents a very important swing vote on the board.
I promise it will never happen again.
Cause, you know, she's dead.
Wait, how do you know about that?
Somehow my zombie roommate knew.
I don't know how.
Try to keep it in your pants next time.
Can you do that, champ?
Come on, now. Let's not throw the baby out with the bath water.
Remember, if it weren't for me sleeping with other men's wives,
you would not exist.
Maybe you can have one of those floozies pin a medal
on your baby-maker.
Perhaps a clip-on.
I had you as more of a plyometrics guy.
Thought you'd be into the short, explosive bursts.
But I guess we're both into slow and controlled,
making it last.
You don't have to go.
I was just looking for an exercise ball.
Terrence said he was with you at the time of the murder.
Looking at some clothes you found for him.
Textured winter shirts and day-to-night denims, yes.
How was he behaving?
Well, he was pretty skeptical about wearing denim after 6:00.
Did he seem distracted? Did he check his watch or take any calls?
I don't think so, no.
Could your view be nicer?
I see this and I just think "mat Pilates".
This is where I do yoga.
I can hold a warrior pose
for six minutes if I'm watching the ferries.
I have to say, you're kind of a genius.
- You get paid to shop? - Uh, it's still a job.
My fashion sense doesn't always match the client's.
Those shoes are amaze, by the way.
Thanks. They're actually my roommate's.
I'm looking to find some that are like them, but...
Strappier.
- Yes. - Possibly in suede.
Could you crawl back out of my mind?
Can I ask a non-shoe related question?
Did you ever talk to Terrence's wife, Taylor?
Mostly about clothes.
She was the fashion-conscious one in the marriage.
With friends like hers, you'd have to be.
- Have you met Camille and Debra? - No.
Great dressers. Awful people.
You and Ms. Debra Canfield
are two of Taylor's closest friends. Can you...
I'm going to stop you right there.
I love Debra dearly,
but she can be a real piece of work.
And the drinking doesn't help.
She ruined Taylor's wine tasting for juvenile lupus research
by throwing up on Kenny G's table.
- When was this? - About three months ago.
Debra never apologized.
It got ugly.
Look, I love Camille like a sister,
but she is a compulsive liar.
And she stole Taylor's business idea.
Camille told Taylor, if you sue me,
I will shut your botoxed face for good.
Please. I would never say that.
Unlike Debra,
I'm the kind of friend that was always there for Taylor.
Like when she found out
Terrence was meeting trashy little gold-diggers
on that website.
What-what-io.dot.com?
Was Camille there for Taylor
the night that Terrence punched a hole in the wall
when he found out she was having an affair?
Vaughn Du Clark? Vaughn Du Clark?
Go video chat with one of your online gold-diggers, sugar daddy.
Anybody else! Anybody else!
Not him! Never him!
You know, I sometimes space out like that
when I'm on a master cleanse.
Excuse us.
What did you just see?
When we interviewed Terrence,
he already knew that Taylor was sleeping with Vaughn.
I saw the moment he learned about the affair.
He was pulling his fist out of a wall. Eek!
So when he shattered that coffee table, it was all an act.
I thought you'd be more surprised.
I was reasonably surprised.
I know, but I was hoping for something like, ah?
Anyway, Taylor was all,
"Go back to your online sluts, sugar daddy."
You need to let me go or bring me a mineral water.
You'll never guess where I saw Major
doing his personal trainer thing yesterday.
I don't know. The gym?
Oi, I was watching that.
Max Rager.
He's been working there?
I can't believe he didn't tell me.
Everything has to be about you.
We will destroy your criminal enterprise.
That is my pledge...
I am literally going through hell.
Do you even care?
Okay, you've literally
forgotten the meaning of the word literally.
It's not my fault! All my friends are cold-hearted bitches,
and that includes the men.
Why is everyone abandoning me? Why?
I'm sorry. I just really need a pinot
and some salty chocolate right now.
This has been the worst week ever.
Is Stephanie able to get Friday night off?
Yeah.
- Sorry. - Congratulations.
At least you have someone to go to dinner with.
We are coming after you.
- What's going on? - Oh, big announcement.
Citywide crackdown on the Utopium scourge.
To this end, we have formed a Utopium task force,
headed by a colleague.
I am pleased to welcome back from sabbatical,
assistant D.A. Peyton Charles. Peyton?
Thank you, District Attorney Baracus,
for the confidence you've placed in me.
I promise I will not let you down...
I don't suppose she told you she was back in the country.
No. You?
For anyone in the Utopium trade,
I'm here to tell you, party's over.
No.
Not a word from Peyton in three months.
And then, poof, she just shows up?
At least she's comfortable enough
to be back in the same city as you.
How can you be so la-dee-da about it? She ditched you, too.
It's weird, having her just pop up like that.
But, you know, we were only dating for a few weeks.
I guess I'm ready to move on.
Look, you and Peyton have been best friends since college.
You just don't casually walk away from that.
I bet she'll want to be back in your life.
Maybe not right away.
But eventually.
And when she does, I hope you've left the door open.
Hello?
Hi, this is Bethany Miller.
Mr. Fowler's stylist.
Hi. What's up?
I found the shoes.
Suede and strappy in black.
- Really? - I picked them up on approval.
Do you want to try them on?
These shoes literally go with everything.
This dress, those pants, this wine...
That dress doesn't deserve to share a closet with those shoes.
You might as well wear a burlap sack.
I got it on vacation.
To Amish country?
Girl, don't hide your killer bod.
You need to dump that boxy for some foxy.
Here. This is more like it.
That belongs to someone.
A long time ago,
we used to be friends.
Ready to try on something red?
White is so last bottle.
Speaking of too much to drink, how were Debra and Camille?
I wish we could put them in jail just for being horrible people.
God, please don't let me run into either of them tomorrow.
Unless it's with your car.
I'm going to an invitation-only sale
at one of my favorite boutiques tomorrow.
You wanna be my plus one?
I can't remember the last time I was plus one'd.
That sale won't know what hit it.
Good, you're here.
I just had to see what you'd think of these bad girls.
If they don't make you want to cross-dress,
I don't know what will.
You ever hear of Casual Fridays?
You ever hear of casual elegance?
What's wrong, were your bib overalls in the wash tub?
Look what I got on Terrence.
Photos and online profiles
of everyone he clicked on at SugarDaddio.Com.
If there's an other woman
who made him kill Taylor, she could be in here.
It's like a catalog of skanks.
Take your finger out of your mouth, sweetie,
that's full of herpes.
Little Miss Jailbait. likes to be pampered? As in diapers?
Oh, this one reminds me that I need to take out the trash...
Meow. Someone has their acrylic tips out.
I still haven't established
if Terrence had deeper ties with any of them.
I'm cross-checking phone numbers.
No, these kind of women don't need a phone to call a man.
They just stand upwind and drop their panties.
Meanwhile, Joe's boss at Performance Car Stereo
is back from his fishing trip.
If he can ID Terrence as Joe's mystery client,
we'll be awfully close to being able to charge him.
Ready to roll?
- Aren't you coming? - Oh, sorry, I have an important meeting.
Oh, wait. I had a vision.
Terrence did it.
- Run with it. - Liv?
It's a me day.
I am punching out early.
I'm going to see a friend.
You got this.
Hey there, girl!
She's with me.
Look what I found for you.
That is so cute.
I literally want to die, just so that I can be buried in it.
Start a tab.
Thank you, Olivia.
Oh, and happy birthday!
It's your birthday?
It must have slipped my mind.
Shut up! We have to celebrate.
How about dinner at that
new seafood and smoothie place, Fin & Juice?
I love Fin & Juice.
Oh, but where will we ever find something to wear?
You the manager?
No. Just a second.
Detective Babineaux.
Glad to hear you made it back. Were the salmon biting?
Oh, I bagged my limit and then some.
Crap.
Ah, I'm gonna let it slide this time.
I'm trying to find some link between Joe and the man we suspect
hired him to kill Taylor Fowler.
Your guys told me Joe had a wealthy client.
One where Joe did all the work at the customer's place?
Yeah. That's right.
Is this Joe's mystery customer?
Uh, nope.
You sure? The photo is a bit old.
Still wouldn't turn him into an all-pro cornerback
on the local pro football team, would it?
He was working for a...
Look, it's no surprise
that Joe got mixed up in something like this.
He met this girl a few months back.
He just got obsessed with her.
She had him wrapped around her finger.
- A girl? You know her name? - No.
I only saw her once.
I was at the bar when Joe picked her up.
Although it was more like she was picking him up.
Was it either of these two?
No, that's too high class.
She had more of a skank thing going on.
I happen to have a catalog of skanks out in the car.
Any chance I can get you to flip through it?
I suppose I could clear my schedule.
- Do you like it? - No.
I lurve it.
Your work here is done.
Go. Get selfish.
Find something that will put the you in fabulous.
Sometimes you have to move on from an old friend.
And when you do, sometimes there's a new friend waiting.
Someone who helps you see that in life,
at the end of the day...
- Hello? - Liv.
I think I know who hired Joe to kill Taylor.
It was Terrence's personal stylist, Bethany.
What? How? I mean, are you sure?
Bethany and Terrence hooked up
through SugarDaddio.Com a year and a half ago.
Only her name was Harmony back then.
Turns out she also had Killer Joe wrapped around her finger.
Liv? Did I lose you?
I can't believe my BFF Bethany was a skanky Harmony!
I'm looking at her right now.
"Hey, big spender, I'm a girl who loves to be spoiled."
The manager ID'd her as Joe's girlfriend
from her picture on SugarDaddio.
That's where she and Terrence must have connected
before turning her into Bethany, his personal stylist.
It would've made it easier for him
to cover all the money he was spending on her.
The apartment with the view, the clothes.
Either Bethany seduced Joe and put him up to it on her own,
or she was in on it with Terrence.
I'm gonna bring her in. Where are you right now?
Um, shopping.
Why are you whispering?
Because I'm in Hotter Than Hell with Bethany.
You are? Why?
She's getting me 40% off.
Okay, well, keep her there. I'll send backup.
Hey, you.
Do me up?
Miss.
We're calling the police.
Just so you know.
I am the police.
Close enough.
Things were pretty sweet
with you and your sugar daddy, weren't they?
Terrence set you up with
that nice apartment and all those fine clothes.
But being the next Mrs. Fowler?
That would've been even sweeter.
Keep her away from me.
You got off easy. Trust me.
Sorry, Bethany.
So I guess dinner is off?
So was Terrence taking too long leaving Taylor?
You started wondering if all those promises were just talk,
so you get dimwitted Joe wrapped around your finger
with promises of love and money.
You send him to find some evidence
that Taylor broke her marriage vows,
with Vaughn Du Clark, no less.
That would've spurred Terrence into action.
You knew there was a way to get all your sugar daddy's money.
You didn't have to lose half to Taylor in the divorce.
And you wouldn't if she were dead.
So you talked Joe into killing her.
- Prove it. - I don't have to.
Yeah, Bethany. Or do you prefer Harmony?
Or Ivy. Or Miranda.
Or any of your other aliases in the three states
where you're wanted for... Let's see.
Fraud, larceny, blackmail.
All involving scams where
you sunk your hooks into rich, older men
then took their money.
While you're serving time for those crimes,
we'll find what we need to
keep you in prison for the rest of your life.
And I'm going to establish
exactly how deeply Terrence was involved.
Involved with what?
Enjoy prison.
What doesn't orange go with?
Yo, why didn't you answer any of my texts
about how I was crushing my date?
Or did you not get my happy-face-with-a-tongue- hanging-out emoji?
Hello there, boy.
When did we get a...
- Peyton. - Hey, you.
Uh, this house is full of surprises.
Will you be revealing our new robot chef
or should I prepare my own snack?
You should go to bed.
This one needs some sleep.
He's the doctor, but okay.
Ah, I was planning on going to sleep tonight anyway.
- So I'm not just doing it 'cause you said so. - Right.
I... I don't know where to start.
Then let me.
I am so sorry about disappearing like that.
It turns out fight or flight is a real thing.
I saw something that made me flight.
I know what you saw.
Granted, my introduction to the subject wasn't nearly as violent.
Well, it took me a while to wrap my head around it all.
Then I got the call to head the task force,
and I realized it was time to come home.
And here you are.
Yeah.
What about him? Does he know?
Well, he's still trying to wrap his head around it.
Ah. That explains so much.
I wanted to talk to you in person.
I went straight from the airport to the press conference.
This is the first chance I've had.
Can I just give you a hug?
So you crushed your date tonight, huh? Tell me all about it.
Hey, it's your birthday.
Looks like we're having quite the party.
Massive.
All my friends will be there.
What was I saying back at the boutique about friends?
Oh, right. Lose one, find another.
Hello, friend.
Happy birthday to me.
Hey, I should invent a special cocktail.
One part spicy whiskey,
two parts zombie tears, a dash of hot sauce.
I'll call it the Liv & Learn.
Because maybe this is the way it's going to be from now on.
What the hell? You didn't tell me it was your birthday.
Sorry. I didn't tell anyone.
Kinda makes me wonder what other secrets you've been keeping.
- This isn't my natural hair color. - No.
So I don't have you to thank for the birthday cake?
No.
Some chick came by, waited around for a bit,
but then she had to fly.
Sorry, I use the names part of my brain to store body envy.
This girl had several parts I'd kill for.
And a beauty mark right where I wanted to punch her.
Here.
Her name is Peyton.
Hello, Terrence.
It looks like you're holding a lot of tension there.
No, what I'm holding are your nards, Du Clark.
Sorry, master.
I just wanted to see your face when I told you
I've got the votes for a hostile takeover.
Oh, okay.
Now what?
I started putting my ducks in a row
a few weeks ago when I found out you were screwing my wife.
With her death, my private humiliation's gonna be front page news.
So now it's my turn to screw you.
At the next board meeting, when I call for a vote,
your ass is out of here.
Or you could play it smart.
Take the long view.
Set aside our petty differences,
because at the end of the day, we both wanted the same thing,
a gulfstream, our own island,
our face on a stamp... Well,
maybe that last one was just me.
Max Rager is this close to illiquid.
The stock just hit a 52-week low.
We're close.
And I think you'll forget all this takeover nonsense
once you see what we've been doing in this lab.
You are gonna lose your head, Terr.
I swear.
Then show me.
Thank you, Mr. Du Clark. Live to the Max.
How many damn sub-levels do you have?
Officially? None.
Pretty impressive, huh?
This...
is where the real magic happens.
What in the world is that for?
Oh. Science.
Wait right here. I gotta go find Dr. Holland.
He was always so good at explaining things.
Though since that lab accident...
What does any of this have to do with Super Max?
Poor Terrence, always so consumed by work.
Oh, there's Dr. Holland.
Love from Bangladesh