Shut up, teaser. Shut up "ultimately," or I will "upgrade" my Adidas to your buttocks.
Previously on J2 -- Jake says he thought "this war was with our enemies out there, not our superiors in here." We see Prince Malik and Anna from last week's ep under extreme duress. We hear Silver Fox threaten to "terminate the program." We see Jake shoot The Man, then hear The Man VO that he knows someone who can create new identities for people that need to disappear. Dr. Thora wrings her hands and worriedly asks for Jake, and The Man says she won't find him this morning. Then Jake walks through the door, all well-lit and in a white shirt, and Dr. Thora gasps, "Jake, you're back!" Actually, he never went away.
Jake stands on a bridge, staring out into middle distance. He's trying to sort out all the squawks in his ear piece. Who has the Subjectovitch in their sights? Jake does. Who? Who said that? Who's talking? Jake identifies himself to the squawks, and we see the Subjectovitch -- a pretty female with dark blonde hair and the classic urban uniform (all-black outfit) -- moving swiftly towards her parked car. Jake, a story above her from his spot on the bridge, moves fast to keep her in sight. A male squawker tells Jake to stay put, that they'll be there in a moment. Leader of the Pack pipes in and says to detain the Subjectovitch by any means required. Jake says, "Shoot to kill?" Leader affirms. Then the male squawker says no, they need her alive. Don't let her get away, Jake! Don't do anything until we get there! Keep her in your sights! Jake yells, "Just shut up!" (shout-out?) and swings into action. He fast-motions down to the road where the Subjectovitch is entering her car. Once there, he makes another silly-looking vertical leap to avoid her car, now barreling down the road. Once back on terra firma, he has to dive to the asphalt to avoid a second car speeding toward him. Whoops, Jake lost the Subjectovitch. And probably bruised his dignity. And his behind, too.
NSA campus. Leader and The Man chew Jake out for his uselessness. Leader says, "Is it so hard to do what we tell you?" Jake says, when fifteen people are telling me different things, yeah! Then he snaps, "The leg's fine, thanks for asking." The Man tells him to make himself useful, and Jake drags himself over to a computer terminal and starts tapping on the keys. Leader addresses the War Room: Subjectovitch, a former KGB agent, is on the loose, though she was within NSA sights just a moment ago (pointed stare at Jake). She had her hand in what may have been America's Chernobyl circa 1986, and "went rogue when the Berlin Wall came down. As far as she's concerned, the Cold War never ended." So, let's get her. Jake asks Leader about bringing in the agent who headed up the prevent-the-American-Chernobyl case, Richard Fox. "He has a lot of commendations." The Man likes Richard Fox, too, since he caught the Subjectovitch single-handedly. And look, he lives in D.C.! How convenient. Hire locally, save the planet from nuclear meltdown. Leader says, "Bring him in," and stalks off. The Man leans in and says to Jake, "You're about to meet a legend." Ooh, is it Willie Nelson? I love him. Oh, right. Richard Fox.
Jake and The Man pull up outside of a riverside apartment. Or maybe it's lakeside. Either way, it's gorgeous and on the water. As they make their way up the stairs, a woman, all pre-office, post-coitus, briefcase, pointy shoes and sensible hair, comes out and hollers, "Call me! If you don't, I'll hunt you down like a dog! Bye, baby. Ooh, you've got company!" She's off. And who emerges? A man. A manly man. He's in a navy bathrobe and holding a gun. The guitar starts a very A-Team-esque mischievous riff. His face comes into frame (not the unlit cigar? SO bad-ass), and oh my fucking god. It's Lee Majors. Lee motherfucking Majors. How meta is that? If anyone reading this doesn't know why it's meta that Lee Majors is playing a government agent from the '80s on J2, let me explain. Four words. Six Million Dollar Man. Popular TV show in the 1970s. That was him. The bionics thing. The whole "we can rebuild him," thing. And yes, there was a bionic dog. Also, yes, he married Farrah Fawcett, but Lindsay Wagner was the Bionic Woman. Excellent stunt casting, really perfect. So yeah, Richard Fox, who shall be known from here on out as $6 Million has his gun casually drawn, checking out his "company," cigar askew, bathrobe loosely knotted. He inspects The Man and Jake. The Man holds up a hand and pulls out his NSA identification, and introduces himself. And could he put away the gun? The guitar riffs on, and $6 Million shoves the gun in his bathrobe pocket. It'll be safe there. The Man raises an eyebrow (drink!) and says they want to talk about Subjectovitch, the rogue ex-KGB chica. He is $6 Million, right? The camera pulls in tight on his face and he says, "Call me Dick." Dick Fox. I love it.
Credits. Jake's life just got reeeeeal interesting.
We're back at $6 Million's pad, and after zooming in on a black model car with massive tailfins, we arrive at the wet bar. Jake and The Man sit like school kids on phone books at a boring church spaghetti dinner. Jake coughs politely at $6 Million's cigar smoke. $6Mil doesn't notice, and is jovial. "Anybody want a Fresca?" No thank you, sir. $6 Million flips open Subjectovitch's file for a look-see. "She always was a real bastard. You boys got a problem, all right." Right. Which is why they stopped by, Mister Fox. $6 Million fixes Jake in his sights and says bluntly, "Dick." Heh. Well, then. Maybe "Dick" has an idea on how to capture Subjectovitch? The Man takes a deep breath and says, "At the risk of sounding corny, your country needs you." Oh, really? $6 Million is gruff as he holds out his wrist. "I gave them thirty years of my life and they gave me this nifty watch." Not that he's ungrateful. He just needs a bit more motivation than knowing the good old US of A is in need. Like, maybe an $80,000 retainer? The Man doesn't think he can swing that. Okay, "Dick" is flexible. "I was just kidding. Make it fifty." Then Jake, complete nerdlinger who reads all the fine print, looks at the contract: Dick Fox can be called back into active duty at any time. Failure to do so could result in imprisonment or suspension of pension. $6 Million looks at The Man and says, "I thought you were the smart one." The Man thought so too. And Jake has never looked smittier than he does right now. Okay, $6 Million is on board. "But if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this my way. Is that clear." Jake and The Man exchange meaningful looks (drink!) and say he can take it up with their boss. $6 Million says that oh, he will. What's his name? Meaningful look part the second, with a wry glance. Drink again.
And Leader of the Pack earns her close-up. $6 Million is all, "Hot damn!" Yup. A lady boss! That's almost as rare as a bionic dog! Well, maybe a little more common. Leader gives a little exposition: Subjectovitch is back on US soil, and slipped through the NSA's fingers just the other day. $6 Million barks a laugh and says, "Who was the pinhead who let that happen?" Jake steps up to take credit. "Uh, I would be that pinhead, sir." And Jake don't wanna be a pinhead no more. He just realized that he could go far. He ain't living on Chinese rock, and none of his things are in the pawn shop. Hey, ho. Let's go. One two three four. $6 Million asks if Jake was sober at the time of his fumble. Yes! Of course. Buttocks tightly clenched, the whole nine. $6 Million says, "Well, that was your first problem." You wanna catch a goose? You gotta be loose. $6 Million guesses that Jake was doing "everything they were telling [him] to do." Jake shifts a bit and says he was trying to. Leader breaks in and asks if they can move forward. Copy that.
$6 Million addresses the War Room and asks for information on several Russian names. He thinks Subjectovitch is looking up sleeper cells, and trying to create American Chernobyl 2: Nuclear Boogaloo, 2003-stylee. Leader is all, really? She's going totally nuclear? Again? $6 Million says if it looks nuclear, he'd "park his ass with an M16 in front of it." Meaningful looks exchanged all around. $6 Million spins around and addresses Subjectovitch's picture on the War Room screen, in the totally artificial "ah, nemesis! Boy I am gonna git ya someday!" way which, when it happens in real life, makes people wonder about your general state of mental health. He's all, "You shouldn'ta stepped foot on American soil. I'm gonna have to bring you down. Bring ya down hard, baby!" Someone should have cut that little speech. Cut that speech hard, baby. Jake finds some info on a Russkie sleeper cell in Atlantic City, who has a line of credit at Russian Red. $6 Million knows the place. "Off the Boardwalk, low-rent, high rollers. You got a facial?" Excuse me? What is this, Old Secret Agent Eye for the Geeky Guy? That is so personal and private. Jake's personal grooming is none of your business. Jake says he's got a passport photo. $6 Million knows the guy, and he'd bet "bucks to beans" that he's behind any nuclear heisting. Leader finds another pesky Russkie in Cincinnati. Glamorous. Get street teams there, Chicago, and $6 Million wants to partner with Jake for a road trip to A.C., baby. Leader is like, you want to do what? Okay, I want a full physical from you. $6 Million stares at her until she says, "What?" He growls, "You got real pretty eyes." I don't think he's Leader's type -- too loose cannon, and would she date a smoker? -- but check out the HetYay.
Dr. Thora's lab. She asks $6 Million to please not smoke his stogie and remove his shirt. He's all, "Okay, but I expect you to do the same." She's all, heh heh, asshole. She leaves for a moment, and $6 Million asks if Jake and she have a thing. Jake sputters "no" like an outboard motor, and says they're just colleagues. $6 Million is all, "Is that a fancy name for friends?" What, didn't they have the word "colleagues" back in aught-seventy, Grampa Bionic? $6 Million says, "You know a man and a woman can't be friends? You have to be lovers or you have to be enemies." Jake is all, like you and Subjectovitch? Ooh, snap. And what a nice segue into this week's edition of "Tales From Alex's Harem."
The thing about being in new relationships is that you often have to learn through discovery what triggers someone. $6 Million and I think somewhat alike (scary, I know), in that we agree that men and women that are friends either should be or want to be lovers. In my case, I can be friends with a guy for a while and then have a random, rare collision with them, then go back to being friends. A few times I've become lovers with someone, then realized we would have no future together, and then we end up being good friends for years. That one is always fun -- you can watch the parade of new relationships come and go and imagine why they dissolve. Because of this, um, trend in my life, I generally ask my friends if they've slept with their friends. Like, if someone mentions a person of the opposite sex often enough, I'll just come right out and ask -- if they're straight, of course. When you as a lover this, it can be perceived as jealousy. But honestly, I'm not jealous. Just curious if other people have the same experience as I do, and end up making lovers out of their friends, or friends out of lovers.
Some people will take their lovers' names with them to the grave. They can and will deny up and down ever colliding with someone or another. But other people end up telling you waaaay too many details. Where's the happy medium? I find the best method is to never ask a question you don't want to know the answer to, and that asking is the only way you're going to find out anything interesting (except in the cases of the constant blabber).
When I asked Styles if he had ever dated one of his very close girlfriends, he said no, but she had slept over a few times. That makes me wonder -- same-sex non-sexual sleepovers? -- but I accepted what he told me. What choice do I have, right? And when I asked Funhouse if he had ever slept with his female friend he's known for forever and who leaves him short funny messages on his answering machine, he freaked. OUT. Was I jealous? I'm the one with the harem. What, did I not trust him? Was he not allowed to have female friends? And yes, he had, once. Was he not allowed to talk to her again? Was I going to hate her? To answer his questions in order, no; yes, I do; yes, he is; and no, I was not. I just wanted to know. That's it. And the only way I would have found out was by asking.
Dr. Thora comes back into her lab and asks why isn't $6 Million's shirt off. And if he asks why her shirt isn't off, she'll stab him with a scalpel. $6 Million takes Dr. Thora's lab report and tears it up. She must have not read it before entering the room, 'cause she protests weakly and asks that he not destroy stuff. Then Leader comes in and asks if $6 Million is ready to go, and "Jake? This one is by the book." Jake goggles his eyes at her and is all, spoilsport. I mean, yes, Tankbuster, ma'am.
Car dealership. $6 Million likes the look of a Mach One 315 Ford Mustang, black and yellow with that crazy thing coming out of the hood and fins. It's a vintage muscle car, and totally hot. Jake sputters that $6 Million spent almost all their expense account money on a car? $6 Million says that what you drive can mean the difference between coming back from a mission alive or dead, and "numbers-crunchers back in headquarters will never understand a thing that." Now, does Jake want to know the secret to this job? Get in the car. The secret is, "Go with your gut. At the end of the day, all that matters is that the job is done right." Then they gun out of the parking lot and head towards Atlantic City.
A waitress spins some drinks on a tray towards $6 Million and Jake. A.C. has never looked so glamorous. They scope out the scene, and as Jake talks out a plan, $6 Million heads for the nearest blackjack table and plunks down over a grand. Jake worriedly asks if he's going to blow the rest of their expense account gambling. No. There's also going to be drinking. Winnah! $6 Million wins, doubles down, orders a double scotch, then sends Jake to go check out a Russkie by the bar.
Jake, all dark eyes and gray suit, finds the obvious Russian spy and tells $6 Million. $6 Million writes down a phrase in phonetic Russian and tells Jake to say it to him. If he says "da," then it's on.
Back at the NSA, The Man relays to Leader that one of the Russians in Chicago $6 Million had them chase down was found -- dead. Two bullets in the eyes, Subjectovitch's trademark. Not much use to the NSA in that state, to be sure. But the dead man had recently liberated some nuclear material. Leader says straight-faced, "They're making a dirty bomb." Dirrty. Naughty, even! The Man says he's notified everyone -- FBI, CIA. Leader reminds him to share intel like crazy. "The last thing we need is another communication breakdown." It's always the saaaame! And is that what our government is saying 9/11 was? A communication breakdown? Whatever.
Back in A.C., Jake manages to say the line to the Russian. It means, "Your mother smells like a monkey." But can she dance like one? The Russkie belts Jake. Jake proceeds to wipe up the casino with the Russians, one by one. It's very wild wild west. Where are the swinging saloon doors, I ask? $6 Million watches and says to the big-booby waitress that he didn't think a skinny kid like Jake could fight so well. Then he asks her to shove her tips between her boobs and leave with him. She does. Jake watches him go all, whaaa? Then he resignedly sighs and gets back to beating some Russian ass. Kaboomski!
NSA. Jake calls in to the War Room and asks for a shoot-to-kill order, on $6 Million. Leader is all, why didn't you tell me he was a-boozin' and a muscle-car-buyin' and hanging with big-booby waitresses! You're both off the case, and I can't wait to read your report. Jake is all, "What about Dick?" Heh. Then the yellow 'n' black muscle car zooms up. It's $6 Million, and he was looking all over for Jake! Get in the car! Jake pouts, "No. We're off the mission! Finito!" $6 Million says it sounds like Jake was talking "to the suits back home," then pulls a gun on Jake. "Get in. I'm not too proud to beg."
In the car, Jake tries to radio in to the War Room. $6 Million busts him. Jake hands it over with a hangdog look. $6 Million says, "Back in my day, those things were the size of a thermos." Then he drops the phone out the window. Screech!
$6 Million pulls over and says, "I wanna know what you are." Oh my god. They're going to make out! Seriously, I am not a Ho!Yay kind of person, but this is telegraphing make-out session from a mile off. Maybe my radar is off and they're just going to work out. Either way, Jake keeps his eyes forward and both feet on the floor and says he has no idea what $6 Million means. Oh, yes he does. It's the nanites, stupid. $6 Million is all, "What did those bastards at the NSA do to you, kid? You and I may have more in common than you think." Jake gives him a sidelong glance, and the plaintive keyboards come into use. $6 Million says that "way back when [Jake] was just a tickle in [his] daddy's pouch, the NSA had training programs. Enhancement programs. Steroids..." Jake can't really get into it...there was an accident. $6 Million says, "There's always an accident." Then Jake overhears (Mee! Mee! Mee! Mee! Mee!) a muffled thumping in the trunk. Um, what's that? $6 Million takes him around to the trunk, then delivers a gun butt to the base of Jake's skull and leaves him on the wet asphalt, unconscious. Then he zooms off, opens his own non-thermos-sized phone, and talks into it in Russian. Ooh! Is he working for them?
$6 Million slams up to an eerily-lit road, filled with Russkies, cars, and guns. They're all a little bit tough on $6 Million, particularly the beautiful Subjectovitch, who says, "I slept with you many times, but I never trusted you." Does $6 Million have what he promised? They open the trunk, and there's the cocktail waitress, bound and gagged. In return, he gets a suitcase full of dollars. He says, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you." What the hell just happened? He gave them some random cocktail waitress?
Back in Dr. Thora's lab, Jake sits with ramrod posture and gets checked out. Just some lacerations and bruises, nothing major. He'll be fine. And every available agent is on $6 Million's trail. "Between you and me, I thought he was a bit of a nutcake." Yeah, clearly not fruity at all. Or spongy. She also could have called him a pound cake, since that probably is up $6 Million's alley. So to speak. Jake leans in to her and asks if, before the nanite program, there were any other enhancement programs within the NSA. Dr. Thora doesn't know for sure, but she would guess yeah. "The NSA has more research money than any other government agency, and a mandate to stay ahead of the curve." Cool. So, does Jake think they did something to $6 Million? Jake says he doesn't think $6Mil was crazy, but rather "knew what he was doing every step of the way." Hey, you two, you're wanted in the War Room.
Hey, it's $6 Million -- Dick. But he's all groomed and in a suit and with great posture and it seems like something long and stiff has been shoved up his ass. And not for recreation. Jake says, "D-Dick?" No. His name is "Richard." He's been in "Finland on a consulting job for the last month, he came as soon as he got [the NSA's] message." Leader and The Man look bemused; Jake, flummoxed. Heh. They're twinsies. Or maybe robots!
Leader is not. Having it. "I don't know what kind of mind game you're running, but you've got some explaining to do." Richard, all Just For Men and hairspray and starchy collar, says he can't believe they let some guy wander in there and pretend to be him. Jake asks hurriedly about the possibility of body doubles or switching or multiple personalities, and The Man shushes him. "You've been watching too many spy movies." Heh. Richard asks if this mission has anything to do with ex-KGB agents from back in the day. Leader says she ain't talking until they found out who this Richard person is. "Well then, let me do the sharing then [sic]." Richard gets all exposition-y on what happened to him. A Soviet team created doubles of American agents using surgery, drugs, conditioning, and language programs. Leader tries to find this project (Crimean, it's called), but it doesn't exist in the computer. Richard says, "It's on microfiche, in the basement, code name 'Double,' protected under the 1982 National Security Act. Only accessible to deputy directors and above." And please, call him Agent Fox. Leader storms off to the basement to look for the file with as much dignity and disdain as she can muster up. Agent Fox Part the Second says he'll wait for his blood work and fingerprints to be taken. And will Dr. Thora be doing that? She fixes him with a wry, scornful look that is just so cute.
While getting his blood taken, Agent Fox Part the Second says he didn't know agents could wear their hair Jake's length these days. Jake coughs. "Yeah. I'm a regular old beatnik." Then why don't I hear bongos? Agent Fox Part the Second says that the "impostor must have done quite a number on you." Shut up, Agent Fox Part the Second. Leader comes back with the file; Agent Fox Part the Second's story checks out. There was that Soviet agent-copying project. So, if Agent Fox Part the Second's fingerprints check out, he's to be debriefed, but not trusted. And they still have to find $6 Million!
Dr. Thora and Jake stalk the halls. The Crimean Project is medically feasible, she says. Jake tells her to run DNA tests on the cigar $6Mil left in her lab. Then, Agent Fox Part the Second asks to look at the security tapes from the A.C. road trip.
Agent Fox Part the Second is way scornful as he looks at $6Mil in action. "You thought that was me? Look at the way he carries himself! Didn't you look at any of the pictures in my file?" Jake gives him the most withering of looks. Then it dawns on them that the cocktail waitress is a Russian spy's daughter, and one who has the knowledge to put together a dirty bomb. And she's been hand-delivered to Subjectovitch. Yeeks. The War Room flies into activity -- Leader has intercepted a tape meant for Russian TV broadcast. It's Subjectovitch, in tight close-up, saying that she has "cut out the heart of the enemy," and that they will stand "proud" and "defiant to the end." Leader finishes with the information that they're planning to detonate a dirty bomb in D.C., at midnight, tonight. Get busy! Jake asks that they rewind the tape and show it with no audio. There's a plane in the shot -- which means they filmed that within sight of Reagan, Dulles, or BWI. Get on it! Jake wants to find Dick. Leader says she wants every agent trailing the dirty bomb. Jake, frustrated, asks Agent Fox Part the Second what he wants to do. "I think we've got our orders, son."
The NSA's got a great big convoy, and ain't she a beautiful sight. Jake drives, The Man rides shotgun, and Agent Fox Part the Second is on the suicide seat. Then Dr. Thora calls Jake with the DNA results from Dick's cigar, and Jake breaks formation and speeds in the opposite direction of the convoy. Leader squawks to The Man to get Jake under control, but Jake says The Man will either have to trust him or shoot him. Agent Fox Part the Second fumbles for his gun, but The Man waves his hand, and it never comes out of the holster. And may I say, DUH, the double could be Richard. But I think they're bionic.
Jake screeches up outside the waterfront apartment. The muscle car is there. And so is $6 Million! Agent Fox Part the Second promptly gets his panties in a wad and rushes inside to confront his horrible double. Jake makes The Man pause a bit before they chase after him, guns drawn.
Agent Fox Part the Second is salty, and wants to shoot $6Mil. $6Mil says he knows Agent Fox Part the Second can't shoot anyone without an direct order. But Agent Fox Part the Second says he thinks he can make an exception. The Man and Jake just stand there. Then the camera pivots around Agent Fox Part the Second and we see he's really looking at...no one.
The NSA swarm around an airport runway. Leader is looking sharp in her black flak jacket and Kevlar vest. She radios to Jake and The Man, asking if they've found Dick. Um, yeah. In a sense. The Man asks, "What happened?" Jake says, "The NSA. After years of pulling him every which way, they...split him in half." Literally! Oh, boy. Agent Fox Part the Second cocks his gun, and Jake says he doesn't think that's a good idea. Dick can lead them to Subjectovitch, after all. "I need you, Richard! And Dick, I need you too. I need you both!" Oh, boy. Jake said he needed dick. That's just too funny. Because I'm infantile. Agent Fox Part the Second puts down his gun and says, "Okay. Now here's the plan."
Back on the eerie wet asphalt where the Russkies hang out, the cocktail waitress/daughter of a spy finishes her dirty bomb. "Eet's feenished," she says. Subjectovitch says, "Once we clear the blast area, we detonate. Open the door. Pack up the van."
Leader says, "Stealth is key in this mission," right as the yellow muscle car careens, Bo and Luke Duke-style, toward the Russians.
The Russians walk together, with their dirty bomb and detonator, towards whatever happy ending they imagine will come after a nuclear holocaust. The yellow muscle car, raining sparks, arrives. Agent Fox Part the Second hops out and says to Subjectovitch, "We're getting too old for this." She asks if they offered him more money. He says, "I wish." Subjectovitch closes her eyes and winces. She presses the detonator, and...nothing happens. Agent Fox Part the Second says, "Boom." Oh, so he delivered the bomb-building big-booby waitress, but she was prepped to build the dirty bomb improperly! Because that would make the Russians really, really unsatisfied. It's like spanking them! Spanking them like Reagan did! Suck on my jelly beans, Commie! Oy. And as for the big-booby waitress, she gets the yellow muscle car, the suitcase full of cash, and Agent Fox Part the Second's phone number. "It's in the glove box. It comes...standard." She winks and tilts her head, and oh boy. This is still a really fun episode, but a groaner none the less. The Man says to Leader, "The whole time, he was two steps ahead of us." Yeah. We know. Well, we know that now. But you didn't have to tell us twice. Leader says to Jake, "My office, 0700, tomorrow morning."
Morning on the NSA campus. Leader gives Jake a commendation from the Department Of Defense for dismantling a dirty bomb. She holds it up like it's some little kid's talentless finger-painting. Then she rips it up. "We have a problem, Jake. There's people upstairs that don't like the way you do things, and they would love to shut us down." So, can he start following fucking orders, please? NOW? Jake delivers a weepy speech to Leader ("I...respect you...but!") about being different from the other agents because he "wake[s] up every morning with millions of nanites inside" of him. And if he follows every rule, something is gonna give. Him! Into two parts! Or something like that!
Waterfront property. Jake hangs out with Dick, who gulps meds, says, "Thank you, son," to Jake, then says he could run faster than a Mercedes Coupe. The mischievous guitars start up again, and Jake is all, really? And Dick squints and chuckles, and as he walks away there's his Six Million Dollar Man signature noise, that chang-ang-ang-ang-ang! We hear that sound as we pull back up through the atmosphere to the forever orbiting satellite, and it's just so meta I can't even stand it.