What do you think? "Coke Classic" or "Crystal Pepsi"?
- Crystal Pepsi. - No Crystal Pepsi after Labor Day.
Every day is after Labor Day.
I've just never seen you fiddle so much with the presets.
It's my ex-wife's inauguration, not a villain's lair.
I want to look good.
So you're thinking about this as kind of a date?
What? I'm not a teenager, Banks. We're divorced.
She's a governor now, and she's reaching out.
I just want to reward that reach, inspire further reaching.
Oh, my God.
Sir, the head of Homeland Security,
a real fuddy and duddy of a man, is here.
- Send him in, Janice. - Agent O'Doyle,
you are being red carded, again.
Apparently, you broke a congressman's arm in five places.
He brandished an edged weapon at the president.
He says it was a replica Civil War sword and he was being politically theatrical.
Well, the stage is pain.
Still, please report for reevaluation at West Wing World.
What? No! That's my boy.
And I thought the congressman agreed to keep it quiet.
It was actually pretty loud--five really distinct, unforgettable sounds.
The congressman isn't the one who talked.
Rho Banks, you also need to report for reevaluation
for snitching on O'Doyle.
- Banks! - That scans.
"Snitching"? I cooperated with a formal inquiry.
- You asked me what happened. - Yeah.
You're supposed to lie to me, dummy.
Look, none of my business, but I assume you guys are attempting to be a team here,
something with a sense of franchise.
- That comes with trust. - Pass.
In the meantime, Special Agent Chomps will fill in for O'Doyle.
It's good to see you again, sir.
No, man! No! Not Chomps! The only thing cool about him is his name.
Chomps is our highest-ranking agent.
He's a normie. He's a Chad. Am I using that right?
I need my team. I'm seeing my ex-wife tonight.
You're not seeing it as, like, a date, are you?
Fuck you, and fuck you for snitching.
And, Chomps, what's with the clenched fists?
You trying to convince us you're a badass?
I brought candy!
Oh, fucking Chomps, man.
Wow. Your ex-wife has had quite the career, sir--
the only mayor of Chicago who could rehabilitate Candyman.
People gave her a lot of flak for that concept, including me, but her ideas work.
Sir, are you sure about the flowers?
The governor might interpret them as a move.
Chomps, when I want your help, I'll stand in the path of a bullet.
- Copy that. - Andre!
Congratulations, governor-elect. Looking sharp, Beverly.
And you are handsome, as always.
I love the flowers, but you know
- you can't hand those to me, right? - Why not?
Because I won an election, not a beauty pageant.
Kind of the same thing, but point taken.
I feel like this hug is going on too long.
Pretend like I said something funny, then pull back and laugh.
I'm usually the one who says the funny thing.
Now that's hilarious.
It's good to see the world catching up to you, Bev.
And I got very excited when you invited me.
It's not like you had to invite me, so...
Oh, Jesus, of course I had to.
- Sorry? - Think about it.
Ex-wife of the sitting president turned governor?
If you're not here, that becomes the headline--
"President Curtis blows off ex-wife's inauguration
to fight Bigfoot," or whatever.
I already fought Bigfoot.
And now I have an even more challenging assignment.
- What's that? - Don't do anything.
Just be here, for me.
But not underneath me or above me or in front of me or behind me.
- So...where do you want me? - There are tables everywhere.
And there's a photo later,
and if you're standing too far or too close to me in it,
20 years of my work becomes a tabloid story about our sex life, so...
- nuance. - Oh, Beverly!
- Mind if I steal her, Mr. President? - She belongs to the world, my friend!
Talk to you later, Beverly.
The fuck is nuance?
[ Intercom chimes ]
Now entering Los Silencios: Sector Five.
Next stop, West Wing World.
You understand I didn't, like, tattle on you.
You explained already.
Someone asked you what I did, and you answered them.
Exactly! And isn't your gimmick that you never lie?
- I would have kept quiet. - Okay.
So, if I murdered someone and you saw it
and the police asked you if I murdered someone,
you would just say nothing?
Is this scenario happening after you snitched on me?
Hey, aren't you the Secret Service guy who broke that congressman's arm?
See how easy?
Yes.
Now arriving at West Wing World.
Geez. What even is this place?
It's a simulated town populated by robots
that test you on the skills required by your position.
I take it the results don't matter, or you'd be gone by now.
I'm just good at it, Banks.
They put me on a fake street and try to trick me into shooting a baby.
I even know the pattern.
Gun, baby, gun, gun, baby, baby, baby, gun, baby, gun, gun,
- and it ends with a gun baby. - A what?
A baby with a gun.
It's a no-win scenario, but this time I have an idea.
Hi, there, Chief of Staff Banks and Special Agent O'Doyle.
All interactions with our staff are tracked on these.
You must score 70% or more, otherwise you'll be fired.
That's fine.
Even-keeled in the face of a threat.
Nice work, Agent O'Doyle.
You better fucking believe it.
But Beverly Mills didn't see a horror story,
she saw hope.
Working with Candyman and urban scientists,
they created CPEP, the Candyman Perpetual Energy Project,
a system that captured his murdering energy
with a series of mirrors, hooks, and kinetic impact absorbers.
Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman.
A decade later, CPEP powers over 20% of Chicago,
and Candyman stands as a symbol of monster crime reborn.
From CPEP to raising minimum wage to Babadook book drives,
Governor Mills is powering Illinois by planning ahead.
Still don't trust that Babadook, though.
Would you like to leave, sir?
I can't leave! That'd piss her off forever.
She wants me to sit here like a prop?
- That's what I'm gonna do. - That's the spirit, sir!
Tonight you're just a light wind under her capable wings.
You know, my wife, Nina, always says--
Hang on. Does that server look sketchy?
He's got the mark of the Chicago Werewolf Syndicate.
Well, you know, Beverly's big on werewolf reform.
She's got that MoonRight Initiative that's poppin'.
Chomps, can you get me another ChiTown Mule?
That's not my job, but I'm happy to serve.
- Hey, pal. - Oh, Mr. President.
- Got some questions about the chow. - What?
Yeah, see, I got GERD. It's this stomach thing.
Just making sure you're not planning any off-the-menu surprises.
- No, sir. - Nothing spicy?
Oh, I think you'll like what we're gonna serve.
Sounds pretty vague. Can you walk me through the courses?
For my GERD.
Fuck it.
Got ya, bitch!
Oh, shit!
- Tapatío! Dang it! - Oh, is that a werewolf thing?
It's an everyone thing! No one likes hot sauce in their eyes!
Chomps! Holy shit! Use your silver bullets!
- I don't have silver bullets! - What?
O'Doyle has garlic bullets, salt bullets, silver bullets!
I didn't bring silver bullets because I don't want you to fight a werewolf!
I hate you, Chomps!
Real silverware. This event is nice.
I knew that guy was up to something. Come on, we got to go tell Bev.
And ruin her party?
Sir, this might be your last chance with Beverly.
You really want to blow it on this?
- What are you doing? - Containing the scent.
When you kill a werewolf, they release an alarm pheromone
that triggers other werewolves nearby to hulk out.
I'll call the DoD, tell them we got a Code Silver, get us a rooftop drop.
Damn, I thought you weren't into this kind of shit.
I'm two months from retirement, and I've never missed a mission brief.
Let's move. Watch the dewclaws.
Morning, Agent O'Doyle. I'm Frank.
I got a big passion for firearms and safety.
- How are you feeling today? - Fine, sir.
I got word there are some bad seeds on this block.
- Think you can identify only the threats? - Yes, sir.
Let's see it. Gun!
Baby! Gun! Gun!
Baby! Baby! Baby!
Gun! Baby! Gun! Gun!
Gun baby!
Huh?
My God. Son, you solved gun baby.
You better fucking believe it.
Thank you, everyone.
People like you are what make this country great.
Great job, sir.
The town hall ran long, so I went ahead and rescheduled your 5:00
with the prime minister of Meepos.
Oh, no. The moderator. She's really annoying.
- On it, sir. - Hello!
The president is running behind, but here's my number.
Let's sync up. Incredible moderating. Truly.
Okay.
Excellent work, Banks. You really chiefed that staff.
- I'm gonna go take a shit. - Give me a holler if you fall in, sir.
Oh, hey. Banks, right? I'm Tom from the train.
Your Secret Service friend stared at me until I pissed a little.
Yep. That's O'Doyle for you.
He gets to snap arms like glow sticks,
and apparently it's my fault if I don't lie about that.
What? What the hell?
No.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Hey, O'Doyle. How'd your test go?
Well, I was acing mine,
but then that guy from the train baited me into blabbing about you,
and he turned out to be a goddamn robot!
That is why I keep quiet.
Oh, you're such a butt!
- I'll figure it out on my own. - Doubt it.
You know, O'Doyle always carries his own bodies.
Sometimes he carries me, too, piggyback.
Right on time. Come on, shove it inside.
- Jesus. - Had to contain the scent.
Yep! None of the pheromones got airborne, sir.
This party is clear.
Well, just in case, I'm bringing some nuance.
You're still not using that word right, sir.
Honestly, I still can't believe you reformed the Rockford Babysitter Eater.
Wasn't that hard.
Just had to find the right synthetic flesh for his skin suits.
And I thought I was a picky dresser.
Mr. President. Noticing a lot of rizz tonight.
Oh, stop it, Senator.
- Andre, you know Candyman? - Of course!
I see you've replaced your hook with a champagne flute.
Why would I want a glass container as a hand?
It's a champagne flute holder.
I'm sure that distinction is important to you.
It is.
I'm sorry. What am I doing? I'm sniping.
No, no. I got defensive.
You brought up my hand,
and it took me right back to the bathroom mirror.
Here, let me top you off.
- To Beverly. - To Beverly.
You know, I never would have gotten into politics without her guidance?
Oh, please. I took you as my date to one political fundraiser.
- Your charm did the rest. - Who? Little old me?
I got to step out for a call.
But, hey, tonight's not about me.
Bev, the floor is yours.
- Why are you here? - You're a dead man!
Chomps! Bag him!
I'm trying to get a clear shot!
Now do you believe me?
- Both of those guys were servers, too. - What does that prove?
Other than your ex-wife gives jobs to werewolves,
and every time you see them, you escalate things.
Don't patronize me.
Job Evaluation Help Desk. How may I help you?
Hi, there. I'd like to restart my test.
- You and everyone else here, ma'am. - Right.
Except I wasn't aware you would be planting "Tom"
to gaslight me into talking.
What? No! I'm not snitching. I'm just telling you about--
God damn it!
- Hey, Mary. I think she's right. - What the fuck? Get out of here, Tom.
No, no. You wanted to restart your test, and I think this might be a special case.
Of course it's a special case.
"Elitist"?
You know what? I tried to do this the honest way.
Diagnostic Mode.
And...there we go.
Clean reset.
Resume functionality.
What? I'm supposed to talk with the Chief of Staff?
Do some kind of entrapment?
Excuse me. I keep getting dinged for trying to have sex with the robots.
Which robots do I complain to?
These robots.
Oh, my God, I'm a robot?
- I'm a robot? - Oh, my God, I'm a robot?
I have memory but no memories!
Diagnostic Mode! Diagnostic Mode!
O'Doyle!
Come on, man!
Now, most of you know this, but I grew up here,
and even though I'm moving to the capital, I'll always be a Windy City kid.
- Feel that wind! - I love you, Chicago.
Love you, Candyman.
And I love you, Wrigley Gum!
Wrigley!
If I could vote for you twice, I would.
- That'd be illegal. - But kind of hot.
Governor, the press photographer is all set up for you.
- You ready? - For pictures? No. I'm shy.
Oh, that's nice. Eyes up here, guys. Big smiles.
Oh, Candyman, get that champagne flute hand up for me.
It's a champagne flute holder.
Ladies and gentlemen, you are now prisoners
in a highly planned werewolf attack.
All of the servers were in on it.
Yeah! I knew it! I told you, Chomps.
- I killed three of them already. - You did what, now?
Right.
Shit.
We are the Werewolf Anonymous.
We've placed an EMP field around the block.
Your technology is useless.
He's right. Pheromone tracker is dead.
What the hell, guys? You were killing werewolves at my party?
- I told you we should tell her. - It's true, ma'am.
He wanted to, but I thought telling you might ruin his chances,
because he's still in love with you and--
Chomps! What the fuck, man?
Excuse me. I'm trying to do a werewolf manifesto here.
Oh, shut up, motherfucker!
Also, you can't be anonymous and have a manifesto.
Pick a lane.
I can't take it anymore! I'm not a brave man!
My God, the bastards rigged the door with werewolf teeth.
Can you feel it, Senator, our power coursing through your veins?
And she's trying to take that from us!
We don't need to be cured. We like crime!
Some werewolves got bit and want a second chance.
Not everyone who was dealt a mouth of bees chooses darkness.
Shut up, Candyman!
Look at you, a champagne flute for a hand.
It's a champagne flute holder!
It's the same thing, you cuck! You sold out.
I'm fucking Candyman!
I pay more taxes than you, and I can drink all the champagne I want.
That doesn't make me spineless. It makes me awesome!
Enough! Beverly, we left a gift on the center table.
Use that to transfer all funds from your MoonRight program to us.
And if you don't, you can all join us.
Oh, my God, a bomb covered in werewolf teeth?
You sick bastards!
You have 20 minutes, Beverly.
What the hell is going on?
Erasing my score voided out memories across multiple robots.
That glitch set off a universal programming collapse.
I found another special case!
You know what? I don't like trains anyway.
How do you feel about tunnels?
Humans! I found humans!
- Move. Get inside. - There they are!
Huh?
Is that the gun baby?
- Why are you rescuing it? - Because I am gun baby!
Searching for humans.
You don't have to say it out loud, Tommy. We're all searching.
Shit.
No, no, no. You have to be quiet, GB.
- Hey, be gentle with him. - Relax.
I'm simulating a full belly and syncing it to its sleep cycle.
I also reset our scores. This place can eat a dick.
What are you doing?
Dishonesty is the only way through those robots.
I can't do that, so I'm putting myself in a leprechaun trance.
- My God, why can't you just lie? - Because then my mother wins.
You'll never have me gold.
I don't want your gold. I have my own gold.
Call it me gold.
Fuck off. You don't control me.
Okay, everyone, move away from the werewolf senator.
Stay on this side of the room.
Andre, you remember The Bean?
The weird, shiny public art installation?
Yeah. I never got why you liked it so much.
You will after tonight.
You two, be ready to move.
Jessica, you sure about these bank numbers?
- Yes, ma'am. - You're actually gonna pay them?
They've got an EMP field surrounding the block.
If the wire goes through, it means they're inside it.
Hey! Anonymous bro!
Don't fuck with us, Beverly.
Okay. Fine. Just wired it.
Wait. Seriously? Oh, my God!
You realize I'm still gonna--
Wait. What the hell is that?
All right, people, do not panic!
Inside The Bean! Everybody, now! Go, go!
You heard her! Go! Go! Move, move, move!
Chomps! Are you okay?
Christ, you took a tooth for me.
I'm all right, sir. My wounds are healing.
That's not a good thing, though. It means the human you knew is dead.
No, that's zombies. Werewolves retain a sense of self.
It's just a slave to the beast within.
Candyman, keep everyone safe in here until the cops come.
Candy-do.
This is incredible, Bev!
A remote-retrieval prepper den hidden inside a beloved work of public art.
Like I said...
nuance.
You can do this. Just be calm.
You are a robot. You are a robot.
Hey. Just moving one of our guys.
- Are you human? - Nope. Robot as they come.
Check it out, dog. Cords in my head.
Okay. Robot enough for me.
Holy shit. Yes.
Stop her!
She is not one of us!
- You are not one of us. - What?
I'm just saying, this guy comes in here, starts whining like a human.
I am a robot. My face is literally metal!
So we're going by looks now?
I heard you guys being suspicious about a fake robot.
- This one seems emotional. - I do not trust him.
- Stop gaslighting me! - Pretty human thing to say.
- Perhaps we should kill him to be sure. - Okay, let's tear him apart.
No. No! I'm a real robot!
I don't want to die!
Wait. That cry.
She's got gun baby!
Okay, wake up. Wake the hell up!
Your mother is winning!
Oh, God, that was hell!
Can you please just start shooting?
- Silver bullets? - Why silver?
Congratulations.
You have passed the job-evaluation program.
Wait. Where's GB?
Thank you, Banks.
And you, I guess you were the prize all along.
No, no, no, no, no.
I need you to feed it again.
Fine.
I am so jealous of that connection.
Don't be. You'll still get all the credit.
How you doing, Chomps?
Ready to be a good werewolf that fights other werewolves?
I'd prefer to just be myself, sir.
Remember, no killing.
Arresting them at least gives them a chance to change.
Chain gun!
Lucky for us, this is a pre-1985 building. Radiator heating is standard.
Christ, the legs on these guys.
Shit. This must be where they filmed.
That's far enough.
You know, I could have run,
but I told you not to fuck with me!
Look at me. You don't think I've seen this before?
I could make a call, get you in the program.
- I will take you there myself. - Are you kidding me? No!
It used to be a guy gets bit, he joins our team...
Sir, I am succumbing to the darkness within.
Oh, thank Christ. Do it.
We are monsters, damn it!
Oh, shit.
Sorry, Governor. Crime always wins.
Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman!
- Oh, man, Candyman? - Believe in me.
Be my victim!
- Cheers. - Get 'em off! Get 'em off!
You belong to me now.
Your death will be a horror story whispered by werewolf children!
Hey, Candyman.
You're more than the holder.
Sometimes I wish if you said my name a sixth time,
I'd just disappear.
I know, man, I know.
Thanks.
Pretty big crowd out there, ma'am. You ready to governate this bitch?
- I'll be out in a sec. - Yes, ma'am.
Pretty amazing, Governor.
Defanging a werewolf syndicate on night one--not bad.
I'm sure the press will love hearing you say that.
Nah, I'm gonna take a back exit. It's your night, Bev.
Thanks, Andre.
Hey, can I ask you something?
If I wasn't president, if I gave it all up, could this work?
If you weren't president, who would you be?
See you around, Andre.
Come on, Chomps, let's go home.
You know, when they reassigned me to you,
I didn't think I'd end up a wolf creature ineligible for retirement.
Hey, no. I'll get my best people on this.
Could we stop at the park on the way home?
No, but I do have a treat in the car. How about some candy?
♪ Werewolves stepping over boundaries ♪
♪ With my ex-wife ♪
♪ Candyman can be a good guy ♪
♪ If you give him room to grow ♪
♪ Werewolves, zero ♪
♪ President, 100 ♪
Chomps, buddy, how you holding up?
- I'm infected with lycanthropy, sir. - Are you, now?
- Dr. Finch. - Yello! It's called a moon collar.
It delivers a drip of silver serum
that allows you to control when you werewolf-hulk out.
- So it's a cure? - It's a start.
And I just heard that under paranormal-agent guidelines,
you won't have to retire for another 35 years,
since they now calculate your age in dog years.
- 35 years? - I know! Great, right?
Stay strong, Alan Chomps! America loves you.
Good girl, boo-boo.
Did you get any of that?