The Price
Updated 2008-10-21 09:56:25
The episode begins with a flashback to the Chicago of 2001. We see Linc in the car with his partner in crime, Derek Sweeney. (Longtime fans will remember Derek as the guy who got the brothers passage to Panama back in season two.) In this flashback, we establish that Linc is the driver and Derek is the gunman for some sort of upcoming robbery, and Linc is planning on leaving his life of crime after this job, reasoning "How can I be a good father if I'm always in prison?" Oh, hello, ironic foreshadowing! Don't think I don't see you leaning against the car with your studiously disaffected mien and your "INSERT QUIP HERE" t-shirt!
Anyway, Derek opines that of all of Linc's plans, this one may just be his most lunatic, but what's a little consideration like mental health when there's a limousine to take out? We then see Linc deliberately t-bone the limo. His old 1970s beater fails to explode (thanks, Ralph Nader, for something ) and the two men emerge unscathed, which is fortunate because Derek has people to kill and Linc has briefcases to steal. Being all whiplashy would hamper that. The guys take off right with a just-pulled-up friend mere seconds before the cops are on the scene.
And we flash to the present, where Roland is saying incredulously, "This is your plan? You're going to pull a kamikaze mission on the general's car?" "Hey, everyone? Anyone who did not lose Charybdis feel free to weigh in on this. Anyone? Anyone ? Well, I guess we've heard from everyone who matters " ... is pretty much how Linc treats that response. Sucre protests that car crashes are occasionally injurious or fatal, and Linc non-replies, "I never said this was going to be easy." No, but you also didn't mention that it was going to involve probable spinal injuries.
Meanwhile, Michael and Don Self are tromping through a church and we see that Michael is finally taking advantage of his miraculous tattoo-removal procedure to wear his shirt sleeves rolled up. He's also untucked his shirt too, but that might be more of a camouflage attempt. (Blue Steel's on his way to becoming Big Steel.) It turns out that Self's brokered a meeting with Gretchen. Shouldn't she have burst into flames upon entering a house of the Lord? Anyway, Gretchen greets Michael with, "First off, Panama was a job." Michael doesn't want to hear it: "Some other time. What do you want with Scylla?" She tells him that's her business. Michael says, "We're not in Panama anymore, and I'm not behind a fence. So, again, what do you want with Scylla?" Gretchen says their goal is the same -- to bring down the One World Conspiracy. Michael figures Gretchen can just hand over the missing bird book pages and scram, but Gretchen points out that she's less likely to be killed if she's not operating solo, so as far as she's concerned, it's team play or nothing at all. Michael angrily huffs at Don Self for being willing to bankroll any work Gretchen's doing, and Don calls him on it by asking Michael to present any ideas he has that don't hinge on that bird book. Guess what? Michael and Gretchen are partners now.
We zip back to Team Scylla HQ, where the away team is now returning, and no sooner is Roland out of the SUV than he's babbling about the Charybdis confiscation and Bellick's got him by the throat. (The really funny part is when I paused my iTunes player and the shot was of Roland rolling his eyes all, "Ho hum, another day, another physical insult.") Michael rules that Roland's under "early retirement," and that he has a choice: "You can either go upstairs and sit on your cot, and ride out the rest of this thing, or I can call Agent Self, and you can ride out the rest of your prison sentence." Roland elects to hang around. Funny -- you'd think that his subconscious yearning to be in situations where beefy men brutalize him would have propelled Roland to the nearest federal penitentiary.
Then Dr. Sara collars Michael with "I need to talk to you." You can practically see the thought bubble over his head reading "#@$%!" We transition to the dock, and Dr. Sara starts with, "So your brother told me about your nosebleeds. And he told me about your mom --" "That wasn't his place," Michael protests, but Dr. Sara plows over him with "To be worried about you?" Michael explains, "When Mom got sick, Linc was at the hospital every day, holding her hand, watching her die, and he was thirteen. It changed him, it made him overprotective, and now he's jumping to all the wrong conclusions, for all the wrong reasons, and -- and it's over nothing because I'm fine ." Dr. Sara replies, "You don't look fine." She does not add, "Something is clearly wrong, because in the last minute, you've sounded more defensive and flustered than in the previous three seasons of this show put together, so you're clearly grappling with intimations of your own mortality. Or there's a skeleton with a black robe and a reaper standing to my immediate left and it's shaking your cool. It's not looking good for you either way."
Anyway, to Michael's credit, he does know how to break bad news: with a quick cuddle and a straightforward delivery: "Gretchen's alive." This sends Dr. Sara straight into flashbacks, and sends us to the credits.
By the time we finish the credits, Dr. Sara's snapped out of her fugue state and Michael's explained the details of his latest Faustian bargain. He promises her, "As soon as we have those pages back, Gretchen and T-Bag are going to pay for everything. They're going to get exactly what's coming to them." Not that I am ever privy to insider spoiler info, but let me make a prediction for you: No, they won't. Both Gretchen and T-Bag know they've got bullseyes tattooed on their foreheads, so they'll make sure they're indispensable right up to the moment they can eliminate Team Scylla as a threat. So stop promising to make people pay because it will not happen . Since Dr. Sara has accepted a life sentence in the Prison of Love, she nods and rationalizes, "This isn't about Gretchen ... it's not about one person, and we have to finish it." Michael moves in for a boyfriend hug, but Dr. Sara prefers to endure her flashbacks alone, thank you.
Up in his bunk, Roland opens an application that helps him map out all the local mobile phone tower locations, then maps out a route. He's going to be bouncing data ... I just hope someone had the brains to install a keystroke logger on his machine.
Downstairs, Michael breaks the news to the rest of Team Scylla that Gretchen's on the team. He does not offer to hug any of them. Linc heads over to reassure Mahone, "This thing with Gretchen doesn't change a thing. We're still close." Mahone says, "Closer to Scylla. Further from [Agent Blots Out the Sun]." Linc defensively says, "I know that. Just stay focused, all right." Mahone holds up his creased and wrinkled picture of Cameron and says, "This is my focus, all right? I'm doing the job, all right? Okay? But every day, the trail to my son's killer gets a little bit colder . All I do is focus." Linc winces in empathy.
We cut back to Roland's mischief-making: he's plugging his mobile into his laptop and is preparing to text something, presumably to be hurtled along the circuitous route he's mapped out. However, Michael sneaks up on Roland and scares the hell out of him, then says they'll need the laptop downstairs. Roland tries to wipe the guilty expression off his face as he hands over the computer. After Michael leaves, Roland appears to have a moment of doubt over something, but gets over it and punches "send" on some text message.
We cut to Agent Blots Out the Sun, unwinding by cleaning his guns on the hotel bed ... and then we find out that Roland texted the guy with a simple question: "How much for Scofield and Burrows?" Oh, Roland, you rat.
Meanwhile, over at GATE ... T-Bag hustles out of the storage room, screwing his hand back into place, and notices Trisha helming her desk at the front of the building. Gretchen coolly tells him, "She's on work release, just like you." T-Bag would like to know what kind of work he and the dishy Trisha will be doing, and Gretchen says they're basically providing distraction whilst Michael tunnels to Scylla. Then T-Bag launches into another stock piece on the many ways in which Michael holds unreasonable grudges against scheming, child-molesting mass murderers. I would transcribe it, but I'm sobbing too hard from the injustices T-Bag so eloquently details. Gretchen is distracted from her eye-rolling by the sudden appearance of three angry Asian gentlemen, one of whom we already know has a track record for getting stabby. Feng (the stabby one) testily reminds T-Bag that his two days to retrieve Scylla are up, then vents his frustration by slamming T-Bag onto his desk and putting a gun to his scalp. Gretchen gets up and calmly introduces herself: "I was the liaison between the One World Conspiracy and your Chinese employers on Operation Copperhead." Feng says, "Susan." Yepper. We see T-"Call me Cole"-Bag's apparently surprise that other people use pseudonyms. Feng says, "You went from working for the One World Conspiracy to stealing the one thing that could destroy them. That's a tight turn." "With the price that Scylla commands on the open market, anyone would turn," Gretchen rebuts. (By the way, Scylla commands $125 million on said open market.) Feng continues: "Our paths never crossed on Copperhead, but I did deal with one of your colleagues. A less capable associate. Whatever happened to him?" Gretchen answers, "He was skinned and hung from an overpass." Feng says, "Ah, yes, I recall," in a tone that implies the good times, good times ... tacked on to the end. Gretchen points out that since she's still got all her skin, it's evident she's competent.
When Feng leaves, T-Bag ponders a $125 million payday, then says, "Susan -- Gretchen -- whatever your name is, I suggest you find a way to bury the hatchet with Michael Scofield's woman. We got work to do."
So does Team Scylla. Sucre and Bellick are working on a car -- reinforcing the frame, etc. -- and Don Self asks, "Why do I get the feeling some poor bastard woke up to an empty driveway this morning?" Nah -- Linc picked it up from a scrap yard. So now Don Self gets shirty over the car not being good enough to take down the One World Conspiracy. There is just no pleasing some people. Michael points out that this is the last car they have to get and, "I really think we can stage a hit-and-run and get away with it." Here's how ...
The first step is LINCOLN SMASH; that is, Linc will pile his car into General Von Baldy's limo. In the wake of the crash, a fake ambulance staffed by Michael, Bellick and Dr. Sara will bundle General Von Baldy off to the nearest ER. On the way, Dr. Sara will dope him up with some morphine, so the general won't even notice Michael picking his pocket. And when he wakes up 24 hours later, he won't know that Team Scylla downloaded the card and put the original back on him. Michael sends Don Self to go get an ambulance from a federal impound lot.
We then cut to a boardroom wherein all the Scylla cardholders are assembled. It is so prosaically corporate as to be disappointing; I expect my One World Conspiracy lairs to have a little more evil flair. We don't need sharks with fricken' laser beams on their head, but perhaps a hooded executioner standing quietly in the corner. Is that too much to ask? Anyway , General Von Baldy announces to his acolytes that completely breaking Lao's financial backbone was such a success, it's time to move on to bigger fish, like the U.S. Too late! Alan Greenspan already got there! And I see that I spoke too soon about the hooded executioner, as Agent Blots Out the Sun has just strolled into the room. While everyone else marvels over the big pile of fake money that's about to kick the U.S. banking system while it's down, Agent Blots Out the Sun gives General Von Baldy a status update on his little text buddy. The two men are skeptical about Roland's veracity, but the general decrees, "Bait the hook. See if he bites."
We'll have to wait a bit on that, because we've zipped over to the impound lot. Don Self comes in bearing coffee and doughnuts and greeting the bored young supervisor (Phil Stroger) with, "This is a federal impound lot, isn't it? I think it's pretty obvious: I need a car." We see that Don Self's hale-fellow-well-met act is merely a way to distract Phil from the monitors so he doesn't notice Lincoln breaking his way into an impounded ambulance.
We cut to the lot. Lincoln jumps into the ambulance, Michael takes shotgun, and as Lincoln begins to hotwire the ambulance, Michael starts in on Linc, "You told Sara about the nosebleeds." "I'm worried about you," Lincoln says unapologetically. Michael huffs, "Stop starting fires I have to put out." Lincoln points out, "Mom couldn't outrun this! What makes you think you can?" Michael protests that he's no Christina Rose Scofield, and wildly insists, "This is different! It's totally different!" It hits Linc that Michael is really acknowledging that it's the same, and he's not at all happy about the prospect of dying young.
As Lincoln drives off, Don Self wraps up whatever wildly amusing anecdote he's been telling to keep Phil distracted, then extracts himself before he really does get stuck with a car. Phil is a little thrown by that, but we'll see if that means anything in any subsequent episodes. As Don walks outside, Gretchen calls him and asks him to deliver a message. We know not to whom ...
But when we cut to Dr. Sara double-checking her EMS kit, I think we all get a good idea. Roland walks over and makes conversation with, "I see your boyfriend's no longer sporting the latest in GPS fashion technology. So if neither one of you are wearing ankle monitors, what are you still doing here? You should be having hot, fugitive sex in every cash-only no-tell motel from here to Mexico." Roland, I'm sure if you check the forums, someone's already drafted a narrative outlining that very course of action. Also: HA. Dr. Sara continues to double-check her medical kits as she grunts, "Some things are more important than what two people want, Roland. I honestly hope that some day, that makes sense to you." Roland looks physically unable to comprehend why he'd even want to try and understand that. As Dr. Sara walks off with her bags, Roland calls, "I'm sorry." She turns around and looks at him. Roland swallows hard, looks away and clarifies, "For Vegas. I'm sorry for Vegas." Dr. Sara walks off silently. Then Don Self calls and passes on a message: Gretchen would like to meet Dr. Sara in room 109 of the Safari motel at 7 p.m. that evening. Dr. Sara does not reply, "Well, if I'm not busy dosing evil overlords with opiates, I'll try and fit it in." But she should . We can't always rely on Roland to puncture everyone's humorless solemnity. Anyway, Dr. Sara is not interested in clearing the air.
We cut to Bellick wringing his hands and venting to greasemonkey Sucre that he's got a bad feeling about this. Sucre's all, "Unlike me, you will be in the ambulance, so why worry?" but Bellick fretfully insists that, "I just got a feeling ... if anything should happen to me, call my mom in Chicago. Tell her I didn't die like some damn convict locked up in some penitentiary." Sucre slams down the hood of the car as he asserts nothing's going to happen. Well, you've just sealed your own fate, buddy. You might as well have whipped out a photo of Maricruz and Lela and kissed them while declaring you'd be home with your family soon.
Michael and Linc pull into Team Scylla HQ and share a thoroughly manly moment where there is much clenching of jaws and wishing of luck. Then we hear ominous music, and then the ambulance pulls out of Team Scylla HQ, followed by the beater car, followed by the black SUV. Roland watches them all go -- I cannot believe that these guys left a demonstrably undisciplined and disloyal guy on his own with access to phones and the Internet -- and the minute the mini-motorcade leaves his sight, Roland checks his messages. There, dangling before him, is the hook: "1 million -- for the brothers. Today." Roland demonstrates a disappointing inability to think big by texting back, "Done." Idiot! He should have asked for $1 million apiece plus a $1 million rush fee for his inconvenience. If you're going to sell out, go big! These kid criminals today, they have no ambition.
We cut to Mahone in his SUV, staking out the One World Conspiracy headquarters. Everyone else is at the intersection where they're planning to crash into General Von Baldy's car. Dr. Sara's still doing last-minute checks on her kit. Michael looks over, and with a blend of affection and annoyance, he says, "No one's expecting you to actually treat this bastard, all right?" Dr. Sara replies, "I'm still a doctor." Cut to Michael smiling all, And that's why I love you. He then checks in with the other great love of his life, and Sucre jauntily reports, "We're good." He's lying, of course. The car's been made by the cops.
Back at GATE, T-Bag is pushing his luck with Gretchen by asking what his cut of the Scylla take will be. Gretchen looks at him and lies, "Twenty-five million." T-Bag mumbles until he figures out that she's giving him a 20% take, then says, "Just so you know, I have a very keen sense of ownership. Six headstones in the Ocusa County cemetery can attest to that. The names on those gravemarkers took a six-pack of Schlitz I had cooling in the river. That particular transgression put me back five bucks. Imagine what I'd do for $25 million." Gretchen assures T-Bag he'll get his money -- after earning every penny of it. T-Bag then jealously asks how much Scofield and company are getting. Gretchen rolls her eyes before glibly replying, "Oooh, I doubt they'll be around to collect." T-Bag is impressed that Scylla can command so much bloodshed and money, and Gretchen hips him to this little tidbit: Scylla is so much more than just the One World Conspiracy's little black book.
Back at Team Scylla HQ, Agent Blots Out the Sun is slowly reeling Roland in with a text reading "How do I know I can trust you?" Roland looks for something to photograph as proof ... and his eyes alight on the map detailing exactly where Operation Lincoln Smash will be taking place.
So now guess who knows about Operation Lincoln Smash? All you who shouted, "Agent Blot Out the Sun!" may have a cookie. All of you who want to hit Roland may have a whiffle bat, and five minutes of us studiously whistling and pretending to look in another direction. ,/p>
Phew! It turns out that sometimes, a cop is just a cop. Lincoln and Sucre are chilling in the SMASHmobile. Michael and Dr. Sara are cooling their heels in the ambulance. Mahone is still watching the One World Conspiracy HQ. He then puts down his binoculars, takes out his photo of Cameron, and rests on his steering wheel for a second, just looking at the photo. A ghost of a brief, bitter smile crosses Mahone's face. He whispers, "Hey, buddy." Please tell me that this is not Mahone planning on going kamikaze. On the one hand: it opens the door to Pam Mahone becoming a bad-ass lady with a grudge, and this show could always use more of those. On the other: it would mean no more Alex Mahone.
Dr. Sara's talking tumor to Michael: she understands from Lincoln that Mrs. Scofield had a hamartoma in her right frontal lobe. Dr. Sara adds, "When a tumor like that gets large enough to cause problems, it's going to come with a lot of symptoms. Loss of short-term memory, problems with your depth perceptions, problems with your motor skills. If you had anything like that, you'd let me know, right?" Michael too-hastily assures her he would, and he currently doesn't have those problems. "And I won't, and I'm fine," he insists fearfully.
And now, Operation Lincoln Smash is a go! Mahone gives Michael the heads-up, and Michael orders everyone else to get ready. Dr. Sara heads back to ask how Bellick is, and he nervously says he's not so good around blood. She reassures him, "I'll take care of the messy part -- you just help me get him on the gurney." Then Dr. Sara opens up a sealed syringe and a bottle of morphine. She refrains from shooting up, which I think acts as official proof that she's got nerves of steel.
Meanwhile, Linc is busy trying to ensure the health of his adopted honorary little brother Sucre by telling him, "It doesn't take two people to crash a car, you know." Sucre replies, "You're kidding me, right? After all I've been through with you, now you're worried about my ass? Shut up and drive, okay?" Linc tells Sucre to buckle up.
Before anyone can get too excited about this caper, however, everyone realizes that this has turned into a trap. Lincoln begins evasive driving maneuvers and when Wyatt blocks his way out of an alley, then gets out and begins shooting, Linc actually throws the car into reverse, hunkers down to avoid the gunfire and manages to make it out of that tight spot. Alas! Sucre has been hit by gunfire, somewhere between the shoulders and the belt buckle, so I'm calling it the gut. No! Papi, no! Anyway, Wyatt fails to kill those two and we cut to a hilarious shot of him standing there looking like the world's biggest, most petulant toddler. His lower lip's sticking out and everything.
Back at Team Scylla HQ, Roland wakes up from a nap, or stops surfing Internet porn, or pops out of a meditational trance long enough to see everyone's dramatic return. Dr. Sara runs in, saying, "Stay with us, Fernando. You're going to be all right." And then Linc is half-carrying the wheezing Sucre in. Bellick is freaking out over the possibility that the One World Conspiracy now knows about Team Scylla HQ, and everyone else is like, "Can we please deal with that later when we're not worried about Sucre bleeding to death on our conference table?" Roland beats a hasty retreat. Mahone shouts down Bellick's fuss about Gretchen with, "She's got a few pages of a bird book! That doesn't make her psychic!" Dr. Sara calls futilely for some gauze, and goes into a torture flashback while looking at Sucre's bloodied shirt. I find it intriguing that this is the stuff that sticks with her and not, say, being drowned by Agent Kellerman. (Let us all stop and observe a moment of silence for our beloved barracuda, who knew how to Get Shit Done. Would that he were still around and not being underappreciated by libidinous doctors over on another network .) Oh, wait, there's more to this flashback -- Dr. Sara is trying to staunch the flow of blood out of a woman's head. Good luck with that one, doctor. Even from here I can tell that half her skull is over by the door. Anyway , Dr. Sara continues to tend to Sucre, the rest of Team Scylla watches, and Michael looks at their tacked-up map and somehow intuits what Roland has done. That hamartoma's making him psychic ! This is totally going to turn into Flowers for Algernon , where Michael's brainpower will eventually exceed human limits, and then there will be the hideous, piteous regression.
Upstairs, Roland is texting, "Trust me now?" He does not add the "bitch," but honestly, the tone's there. Michael scares the hell out of Roland once again with another silent entrance, and Michael says accusingly, "It looks like someone set us up." Roland squeaks, "Seriously?" "Yeah. And I'm wondering if it was you," Michael replies. Roland goes on the blustery offense-is-the-best-defense defense, but Michael's not having it. Roland says, "Just because I didn't do time with you guys, that doesn't make me a rat." Technically, he's correct. His lack of jailtime camaraderie didn't make him a rat. His immaturity did. Roland continues, "I put just as much time into this as anybody else. I make one little mistake and I'm Judas? No. You know what? Call Self, because I'm going back to the can! I'm done with this!" Michael cuts off the histrionics by handing Roland back his MacBook Pro, and bidding him to look up businesses at the corner of the streets where the accident was supposed to happen. Find the businesses, find exterior security cameras. Find exterior security cameras, find license plates. As Michael walks off, Roland has the nerve to call, "How about an apology?" Michael gives him a You've got to be kidding? look, and stalks off.
Meanwhile, over at GATE, Don Self is busy reporting to Gretchen (!) on Michael's whereabouts and Dr. Sara's rejection of Gretchen's invitation. Gretchen attempts to tell everyone how it's going to be from now on, and Self sort of snaps. He gets his moment of awesomeness with: "Listen to me, skank , you just got your stripes stripped off your sleeve by your old boss, so whatever clout you had with the One World Conspiracy? It's gone. You work for me now. So you could try to pull rank on the hick here all you want --" We cut to T-Bag, who has just moved Don Self up a couple of notches on his "people I might like to kill before this season is out" list " -- but don't mistake my patience for weakness. You're alive right now for one reason: 'cause I'm allowing you to be. So when I get Scylla, you'll get your traveling money. And if you step one foot on American soil when this is over, I'm going to take my gun, and I'm going to put a bullet right [between your eyes]." We switch to Gretchen's face: she seems a little turned on. It's not clear whether she loves the death threats or whether she loves feeling like now she has a good reason to kill Self later.
As Don Self exits, Trisha enters. She's covered up the cleavage -- amusing, given that Gretchen's been running around in a shirt unbuttoned to her bellybutton -- and she thrusts a clipboard with a schedule of people's comings and goings at Gretchen. The older lady does not appreciate young Trisha's initiative. She hands by the clipboard and lets T-Bag handle it. And then we switch to the front desk where it turns out that Trisha was using the clipboard to lift Gretchen's prints (she uses her compact to dust the prints for lifting, which is an awesome improvisation), and it turns out that T-Bag is skilled at playing dumb, greedy little girls by telling Trisha the Scylla payday is only $1 million. This relatively small amount of money is still enough to turn Trisha's head, so I must once again ask: are today's young criminals lazy, stupid or both? Where's their sense of scope? Anyway, Trisha threatens T-Bag with, "You pull a gun on me again and this won't be the only set of prints I'll be copying." T-Bag assures her they're allies, determines that Gretchen's watching, then slaps Trisha with a loud "Don't you ever come in my office again unless you're summoned!" Trisha's gaping -- and oh no, she's traded her tacky red corn-chip claws for an equally tacky French manicure -- and T-Bag gives her a humorless wink.
Cut to a meeting where Agent Blots Out the Sun is pleased about his source's veracity and General Von Baldy is not so pleased that he was the bait for the hook. Awww, he's funny when he's pissed about near-death experiences. Agent Blots Out the Sun says, "If you're unhappy with my methods, maybe you should parcel out the job to someone else." General Von Baldy huffs that he doesn't accept resignations, and orders Agent Blots Out the Sun to close the deal on the brothers by the end of the day, "or your severance pay will be a body bag." Agent Blots out the Sun is not so easily intimidated: "Broad daylight. A city street. And they knew your route. If Scofield's mission was to kill you, he'd have a better way to do it." And with that little nugget of game theory, Agent Blots Out the Sun takes his leave.
Good news, everyone! Dr. Sara's dug out all the bullets and Sucre will be on the road to recovery -- assuming that septic infection from all those sweaty, unsterile men standing around doesn't kill him in the meantime. Linc frets about Self's reaction to the One World Conspiracy making them when lo and behold, Don Self calls Michael. However, it's not to ask about Scylla. Don Self has just noticed that Roland's GPS unit went offline. Linc and Mahone go pounding upstairs to look for him, but Roland's tracking cuff has been snipped off -- and he's slipped out a side door. We cut to him texting to Agent Blots out the Sun that he's in a meeting place. Oh, Roland. It would have been better for you if you just blogged about your hurt feelings.
The remainder of Team Scylla performs a desultory search for Roland, but since he's taken the Corolla, who knows where he is? With a gleam in his eye, Michael asks if Roland took his laptop. He sure did. Michael nods to Mahone, and Mahone heads upstairs to grab a gun. On the way out the door, Michael stops in to make sure Dr. Sara and Sucre are okay. She is, and Sucre gasps, "What are you still doing here? Go get the son of a bitch!" Michael and Sucre do a big hand-holding squeeze (ah, bromance!), and when Dr. Sara's done sewing up Sucre, she heads into the bathroom, for a little cleanup followed by flashbacks to Gretchen killing some blonde chick in front of Dr. Sara. Again, I find it interesting that this is what she flashes on, what with her other torture sessions and her own execution of Agent Kim in season two. But whatever -- Dr. Sara's having a bad moment in the bathroom and even Lady Macbeth is all, "I believe you've washed your hands enough."
And now, the moment of truth: Roland and Agent Blots Out the Sun are meeting in an industrial-looking alley not far from Team Scylla HQ in San Pedro. So Roland stole a car and drove it all of two blocks? That makes no sense even in a crimes-of-opportunity context. Roland calls out, "You got my money?" No, but Agent Blots Out the Sun has a gun and an impassive mien. Roland protests, "Oh, yo, I thought this was going to be a legitimate business transaction. If you don't got my money, I don't got the location of the brothers!" Agent Blots Out the Sun has ways to get around that: he points his gun at Roland's sneaker-shot feet and asks, "Where are they?" A shot goes off and Roland's on one knee, weeping as he asks, "What are you doing?"
We cut to the Safari Inn. Dr. Sara gets out of a taxi and heads into room 109. As she pushes the door open, she flashes back to her imprisonment, and some blonde coming in after a torture session and pressing a key into her hand. Dr. Sara opens the door and there's Gretchen, leaning against the TV armoire. She says hello; Dr. Sara gives her a look like the cats give me when I've just discovered them on the kitchen counter again. Then she slams the door shut and glares at Gretchen.
The other woman begins speaking: "A former mentor of mine once told me a story that I think applies to this situation. At the end of the Civil War, Grant's Union army had Lee's Confederate soldiers outflanked at Appomattox. Lee understood the futility of bloodshed, so he requested a cease-fire. He wanted to bring an end to the fighting. Soldiers that had been killing each other that morning walked across the lines that afternoon, for the first time as allies, trading Northern coffee for Southern tobacco. Now, I don't expect us to exchange gifts, but that doesn't mean we can't be allies." Dr. Sara seems confused by this. I guess she hasn't spent enough time around people who recognize expediency as a tactic for bringing about delayed gratification -- after all, she only worked in a prison , where people routinely made deals for their own security.
So then Gretchen whips out an extension cord and makes Dr. Sara an offer: Dr. Sara has five minutes to go to town on her back and work out her issues, and then the little matter of Gretchen torturing Dr. Sara is off the table forever. Sound good? Unfortunately, while Gretchen's making this offer, Dr. Sara's flashing back to the moment when Gretchen shot the key-slipping guard and left her to die in Dr. Sara's lap. (By the by, Gretchen's got a really nasty set of keloid scars all over her back. She needs to make nice with Michael long enough to get the name of the miracle dermatologist he visited in the season opener.)
Dr. Sara finishes her bugout, and as she tosses the cord on the bed, Gretchen checks her watch and says, "I don't want to rush you, but you have four minutes left." Dr. Sara asks, "What was her name?" Gretchen snaps, "This is a one-time deal. You want your pound of flesh, you take it now." Dr. Sara's more interested in finding out the name of the guard that Gretchen shot. Gretchen asks, "That's what this is about? A guard that couldn't do her job?" Dr. Sara whips out a scalpel (!) and draws a line across Gretchen's throat (!!), then repeats, "What was her name?"
Gretchen thinks it may have been Michelle Taylor. Dr. Sara says she can handle a little torture, but the whole killing-people thing is beyond the pale. Gretchen protests that she had orders, and Michelle had tried to help Dr. Sara escape. Dr. Sara corrects her: "She did help me escape. She didn't try . You were too busy making an example out of her to find the key that she left with me." Gretchen opines that Michelle got what she deserved for screwing up her job; she is not the lady you want doing your employee evaluations, is she? Dr. Sara's disgusted by this sentiment. She lets go of Gretchen's hair and withdraws the scalpel. As Dr. Sara opens the hotel room door to go, Gretchen says, "You proved your point. We're even." Dr. Sara looks down at her bloody scalpel and says, "We're a long way from even." She smears a bloody thumbprint on the doorjamb and says, "And when this is done, you'll pay for Michelle." Then Dr. Sara walks out. Eh ... I'll buy that Dr. Sara has an essentially idealistic and selfless personality, but really? She's more pissed about Missy One-Note getting shot than she is about being tortured by a madwoman who's offering a patently insulting ceasefire? Someone needs to take Dr. Sara aside and say, "Two words: Paulina Escobar," then leave it at that.
We cut to Roland, who is not at all stoic about the pain a blown-out kneecap causes. Agent Blots Out the Sun asks where the brothers are, then shoots Roland in the other knee before he has a chance to respond. That seems sort of like the assassin version of premature ejaculation, don't you think? Then Agent Blots Out the Sun hunkers down and delivers a speech on how he can shoot people so they'll take days to die, and it's all delivered in a dispassionate tone of voice and WE GET IT, HE IS A CONSCIENCELESS KILLING MACHINE, MUCH LIKE THE GREAT WHITE SHARK. (The irony here, of course, is that this person who's busy introducing Roland to hitherto unexplored realms of agony is the same one whom Roland had defended to Mahone with, "Maybe it's just how he's wired." Is that conversation giving you comfort now , Roland?) Anyway, Roland spills the location of the brothers. Agent Blots Out the Sun gets up and aims the gun at Roland's stomach. As Roland sobs, "Oh, why will you do it? I told you what you wanted, why will you --" Agent Blots Out the Sun shoots him in the gut. Then he whips out his phone to make a call, and that is why he misses Mahone behind him.
With murder in his eyes, Mahone takes Agent Blots Out the Sun from behind, courtesy of a crowbar. Then he picks the man up, clearly planning on beating him to death, and Linc dives for the crowbar. Agent Blots Out the Sun looks up, clearly dazed, and Mahone delivers a few vicious haymakers. After a decent interval, Linc veers Mahone away. Bellick disarms Agent Blots Out the Sun, and Michael just sort of stands there. Mahone is still fighting to get to Agent Blots Out the Sun, and Linc shouts, "You'll get your shot, so back off!" As Michael finally moves -- grabbing Roland's backpack -- Mahone breaks free, intent on killing the man who murdered his son. Bellick herds the woozy Agent Blots Out the Sun away while Linc looks over at Michael all, "A little help here?" Alas, Michael is tending to Roland.
Michael grabs the PowerBook Roland had in his knapsack and we flash back to him wedging an ankle bracelet's tracking chip into the space where the battery goes. Michael takes out the chip and replaces the computer in the bag. Roland reaches for him, sobbing his name. Linc bellows off-camera, and Michael stops in his tracks.
And now, cut to the cardholders all standing around a conference table, reviewing the files on Team Scylla and talking in very serious voices. General Von Baldy comes in and testily says, "Don't hand me any more updates." Then we find out why he's so miffy: "They're surveilling me . They're coming after me . Lisa rushes to soothe him, but General Von Baldy would rather brood, thank you. Then he commands one of his body men to raise Agent Blots Out the Sun, but surprise, surprise, the guy isn't taking calls at the moment. Okay, then, Next item: Move Scylla. Lisa points out that this'll take a few days, and General Von Baldy huffs about how he could not possibly care less about the details -- just get it done.
We cut back to Michael, who has decided to deal with Linc later. As he hunkers down to keep Roland company, the black-hat hacker cries, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Michael holds his hand and says sorrowfully, "I know." Roland protests that he's not ready to go, man. Michael refrains from saying, "Me neither." He just holds Roland's hand until the other guy stops breathing. Rest in peace, you little loudmouth. I will miss your brash inappropriateness.
One final thought: is it just me, or does this show have it in for anyone who's under 30? There really seems to be this "Young People: They Don't Know Squat!" attitude that I find baffling, being as this show's on FOX and not CBS, but when you think about it, who was the one idiot con with no sense of survival in the original Team Escapara? Tweener. Who is the one idiot con with no sense of survival on Team Scylla? Roland. Who is the moron who has not learned how dangerous the company she keeps is? Trisha. The premise is just odd , given that all the still-living people on this show have to have gotten their start at some time, and it's not like they all turned thirty and said, "You know what? The next thirty years are going to be devoted to violating the social contract. Now pass me my Fudgie the Whale cake!" Anyway -- that's my little "Hnnnh?" moment. See you all in two weeks.
Visit the Prison Break forums , and stroll down caper memory lane with Prison Break's most insane moments .