By Sobell
Oh, poor Lincoln. He's forced to road-trip to Miami with T-Bag, Gretchen and Don Self to track down the Scylla buyer. That's a road trip that makes the Vegas jaunt with Roland seem like a week at the Red Door spa. It doesn't help that Linc nearly gets killed in an early-in-the-episode shootout, but he manages to get the wallet of a counter-conspiracy stooge's girlfriend. Don Self and T-Bag are dispatched for the hapless Tia, and they decide to topple Linc as the master strategist and put Don Self in charge. Me at the 22-minute mark: "Oh, God. They're all doomed." And then, at the 23-minute mark, Mahone comes in! Me: "Who knew the god of Prison Break was taking requests?" Anyway, now that Mahone is on board, the team's collective IQ doubles and but not enough to figure out that Gretchen knows the Scylla buyer and is working him behind their backs. Gretchen attempts a double-cross, then changes her mind at the last minute and gets shot for her trouble. Don Self urges Linc to kill Gretchen, but Linc won’t do it (surprisingly, T-Bag is the angel on his shoulder urging mercy), and then everyone heads away, presumably leaving Gretchen to bleed to death.
Meanwhile, Michael appears to be held prisoner in a Restoration Hardware catalog. Worse, the One World Conspiracy brings in a Dr. Knowlton, Headshrinker to Evil, to try and scramble Michael's brain. He more or less succeeds by dropping the pre-credits news that Christina Rose Scofield is alive and working for the One World Conspiracy. Dr. Knowlton then presses his advantage with a heavy recruiting pitch for the One World Conspiracy -- why, if Michael worked with his equally brilliant mama, they could run Scylla on a global scale. Then we'd have cheap fuel and abundant food and the long-promised new season of Project Runway and truly, it would be Paradise on Earth!
Dr. Sara, meanwhile, is bugging out because she's been separated from Michael and subjected to cocktail hour with General Von Baldy. After Von Baldy makes some happy hour talk about how he's planning to utilize Michael's talents on a global scale, Dr. Sara is sufficiently freaked enough to accept a mystery text from someone who wants to meet at what looks like Los Angeles' beautiful downtown library. So she goes, she gets kidnapped by people who appear to be nostalgic for the SLA's style of doing things, and it turns out that Lisa wants to talk. Lisa hands over the address where they're holding Michael and warns that the One World Conspiracy is trying to brainwash Michael so he'll be a good little stooge.
So T-Bag overhears Linc talking Dr. Sara out of a storming-the-Restoration-Hardware rescue, and he squeals to General Von Baldy. This prompts Von Baldy to order a quickie chemical lobotomy on Michael. However, Michael had anticipated this and booby-trapped the water heater in his room to explode, so he manages to avoid his chemical lobotomy. (And orders the lead security goon to shoot up Dr. Knowlton with the wonder drugs. Nice.) Then he eludes the goons shooting at him courtesy of Dr. Sara mowing them down with a Jeep at the last minute. Michael's appreciation of his awesome girlfriend is diminished by him being all freaked out by his mom being alive. Well, he might be comforted to know that his mom is all freaked out over Lincoln issuing her death threats via Verizon.
Boy, good thing we embarked on this many-months-hiatus with so many plot threads all wrapped up, huh? Oh, wait. I mean exactly the opposite of that. Merry F'n Christmas.
See the most implausible moments on this show. Come back Monday for the full recap.
The episode begins with what has to have been a worse ride than the trip back from Vegas after Roland lost Charybdis -- it's Linc driving, Gretchen riding shotgun, and Don Self and T-Bag in the back. Oh, you know picking a radio station prompted people to pull their guns. (I like to imagine T-Bag saying tersely, with his gun to Don Self's temple, "Let me listen to an hour of All Things Considered and you'll never have to worry about this situation again" while Don croaks, "Mancow!") There's the ring of a phone, and we see that Linc and company have lumbered into a swanky hotel suite (or condo), and Dr. Sara is similarly ensconced in plushy digs. Dr. Sara and Linc share a brief expository phone call -- he's in Miami, she's at some high-end hotel with "flowers and a fruit basket and absolutely no information about Michael." Linc catches her up on Team Scylla with "Sucre split. We left a couple of messages with Mahone telling him where we were ... that was two cell phones back." Dr. Sara asks, "Who's 'we'? Who are you with?" Linc obliquely says, "People who I don't trust?" Dr. Sara then tries a reality check in re: Lincoln's crazy plan to retrieve Scylla, but he basically says "Ksssh, ksssh, the connection's breaking up!" and ditches her.
Besides, Linc has a mission now: through the magic of moving the plot along, there's now a thread between the guy who attempted to kill Gretchen and Don Self last week. It's a club called "The Grafton." T-Bag asks, "How do we know that this guy's still in Miami, that he hasn't sold it already? Not that I'm complaining -- I've had some filthy, filthy times in this state --" Wait ... when did T-Bag shave his face? Oh, it's weird to see him without facial hair. Don Self chides, "Don't screw this up, 'cause it's our only lead on this guy." Linc drones, "Be thankful I haven't killed you," and takes off. And it's only then that I notice Gretchen's businesslady suit is all black leather. Where does she shop -- North Beach Leather, circa 1991? Don Self's annoying yapping follows Linc out the door, and when he turns to Gretchen to bitch some more, she shuts him down with, "Why don't we all just focus on who's got Scylla? Whaddya say?"
We transition from Gretchen's face-scanning software to Michael waking up in the middle of a Restoration Hardware set. He wanders about his spacious room, confirming that the doors and windows are locked, looks out the window to the well-manicured grounds below, then checks out the bathroom, which is possessed of a fully-stocked cabinet and a water heater. The lead security goon we remember from prior episodes comes in and delightedly tells Michael he's in "a house, in the woods, sixty miles from anywhere. Swept clean of weapons so you don't need to worry your head about that. There are no bars on the windows or the doors, but there are three kinds of mountain lion in the area, so you may want to stay close by." What is it with this network and the mountain lions? Anyway, some unctuous little sweater vest-wearing toady smilingly says he'll take it from here, and introduces himself to Michael as Dr. Roger Knowlton, headshrinker to conspiracy goons worldwide. Michael says flatly, "A cigar is a cigar. Are we done?" Dr. Knowlton says, "You've been operating under some misconceptions about [the One World Conspiracy] and the General wants to open the books. I'm here to provide the facts and to help you process them." Michael says, "If by 'facts,' you mean 'what's on Scylla, and my mother worked for them,' I already know these things." Knowlton says, "Worked? Your mother works for us. Your mother is alive." Michael gapes in shock as we go to the credits. I can't say I'm much more composed. What the hell, Prison Break? Are you just raising people from the dead willy-nilly? Will we see a re-animated Whistler ?
Linc rolls on into the Grafton and fishes for information about the Scylla buyer -- who, it turns out, looks like Titus Welliver because he is Titus Welliver, so one point to me for recognizing a Deadwood actor once someone cleaned off the grime. Anyway, Linc's fishing does not go too well, but he notices a blonde girl looking pretty nervous, and when he calls her on it and moves to ask her more questions, some beefcake with a rotten survival instinct tries to play the hero and ends up on the business end of LINCOLN SMASH! A brief melee ensues, but at the end of it, the sacrificial beefcakes have been rendered unconscious and Lincoln is frog-marching Tia out the door on her thin story that "some girl who works here, he dates her."
Meanwhile, whilst walking down a flight of rustic stairs in the excruciatingly tasteful yard, outside the excruciatingly tasteful lodge, presumably within sprinting distance to the anti-mountain-lion shelters, we have Michael. He is plainly skeptical of this mother-risen-from-the-dead development. Dr. Knowlton claims, "She left you and your brother to protect you." Michael sarcastically drawls, "From the dangers of solar synthesis work?" Also, you would think the "I left you 'cause I loved you" excuse would have a limit of one deployment per parental team. But Dr. Knowlton insists, "There were threats. You and Lincoln might be kidnapped." Yes -- better to leave the boys penniless and at the mercy of Chicago's foster care system than to go to your boss and say, "We work for the One World Conspiracy, and you're telling me with its vast resources, they can't spring for an ex-Mossad or two to nanny the kids? It would mean fewer distractions on my part -- and better results." What the heck kind of alleged genius is Christina Scofield if she can't think of that? Michael calls BS on the whole "she wanted to prevent danger" argument with "Where was she when my brother was strapped to an electric chair?" Answer: working in a remote part of the rainforest without benefit of even dial-up Internet access. "Or: she wasn't alive, hasn't been for 25 years, and this is all a fiction," Michael replies. Dr. Knowlton tries to talk up Christina's research and ends with, "There's so much more to Scylla than you know." Michael shoots back: "Sounds like we'd have a lot to talk about. Get her on the phone." Knowlton pauses and cagily says, "When you're ready." "No time like the present," Michael rebuts. Knowlton clarifies, "When you're ready to join her ... us. That's what this conversation is about -- joining [the One World Conspiracy]." We cut to Michael's horrified expression.
Tia and Lincoln are sitting in his big silver SUV (I swear, the One World Conspiracy has found a way to manufacture dinosaurs and compress them into oil -- that can be the only explanation for how they manage a vast SUV fleet without going bankrupt), and Tia's nervously calling Alleged Erica, the alleged girlfriend of Titus Welliver. Within seconds, a text comes by and Tia shows it to Linc. Linc pulls out his gun and asks, "Why did this guy call the club's phone and not Erica's?" Tia say, "Um? They fight a lot? So when she doesn't answer the phone, he calls the club." Unless Alleged Erica is as fabulous as Helen of Troy, there's no way any hardened One World Conspiracy-level criminal would put up with that juvenile foolishness. Tia digs, "What do you want with this guy?" Linc says, "He took something that belongs to me. I want it back." Tia's like, "Ooookay." Then she points at some random chick and IDs her as the Alleged Erica. As Linc leaves his SUV and potential hostage to go meet with Erica, we learn that A) Alleged Erica is indeed imaginary, and B) the whole thing was a set-up and Linc is now a target for some very mean people's shooting practice. Tia hops out of the SUV and into some substantial-looking silver car, leaving Linc with a distinct "Oh, crap!" look.
In the shot, we set the silver car zooming up to Titus Welliver. He orders the goons off to tend to their wounds and grabs Tia for a tete-a-tete. We quickly transition to her describing Linc -- "Big guy, shaved head, crazy" -- and establish that Titus and Tia are actually the two dating. We also establish that Tia left her wallet in Linc's car. Oops.
Linc's lucky find is not keeping him out of the doghouse. Back at the swanky suite, Gretchen observes, "Busting up clubs, getting shot at in public ... you keep that up and we're not going to last here much longer." Linc acidly points out that he wasn't planning on settling in Florida anyway. He then summons the two other men, and Gretchen snags Linc's arm to point out, "That's why I have to give it up for the General. He puts four enemies together -- guaranteed tension and no alliances against him." Her broad hint that it could be otherwise goes unheeded. Linc dispatches Don Self and T-Bag to check out Tia's place. Gretchen tries to warn Linc of possible dissention in the ranks, but her palace intrigues bore him. Or go right over his head -- it's a 50-50 guess as to which it really is.
Back at One World Conspiracy HQ, the General's sitting down to a light supper, accompanied by a carafe of white wine (one can only assume some space-age technology's keeping it cool, because that glass bottle on the table sure as heck isn't doing the job itself). He orders Dr. Sara in, and is instantly the gracious host: "You're looking ... rested. How's the hotel?" Dr. Sara's in no mood for small talk, and immediately says, "I would like to offer my professional assistance in Michael's rehabilitation." The general purrs, "How kind," and then blows her off. Dr. Sara tries again with the whole "I only want to help his rehab" and General Von Baldy says, "That's impossible. Believe me, you serve Michael best at a distance right now. Trust me." He sits and begins to set his napkin on his lap, conspicuously not inviting Dr. Sara to join him. Dr. Sara persists, "I have no agenda beyond wanting to see him right now." "And in three days to a week, he'll be back in your loving arms forever," General Von Baldy says with his patented mix of paternalism and patronizing airs. Dr. Sara tries to joke with, "I'm not that patient," and General Von Baldy tells her to "indulge yourself. Sit by the pool. Envision the future, financial security, Michael's talents being utilized on a global scale." The thing that separates her from me is that I'd be like, "Lounge by the pool? Can I get a massage and pedicure too? I checked the spa services menu at the hotel, and I can envision Michael's future during a Swedish massage just as effectively as I can anywhere else ..." and Dr. Sara won't take no for an answer. "What's being done to Michael?" she asks, and General Von Baldy dismisses her with, "I'm putting an end to this exhausting cat-and-mouse. Thank you for stopping by." So, no massages or pedis, I take it?
Back on the outdoor set for a Restoration Hardware catalog, Dr. Knowlton reads aloud, "Radical architecture is a rejection of all formal and moral parameters ... that's from your thesis." Michael rebuts that it's "someone else's words, heavily paraphrased," but Dr. Knowlton says, "I think you meant it as a metaphor" for Michael's personal code. Then he pulls the Mom Card: "Do you know she had an almost identical quote in her thesis from thirty years earlier?" Oh, great, now you've messed with the timeline again, because by that, Christina Rose Scofield was going to college at the same time as she was raising two kids. Michael compliments Knowlton on "doing his homework," but Knowlton claims this all came from a few conversations. Michael smirks, "Let me guess: you two had some kind of moment at the [One World Conspiracy] Christmas party?" Oh, I wish! Can you imagine the One World Conspiracy's holiday shindig? I bet they serve wassail in the hollowed-out skulls of their enemies. Knowlton says, "I've known your mother for years -- well enough to know that you've got the same brilliant mind and the same sense of humor." Michael correctly concludes that the One World Conspiracy isn't after him for his deadpan bon mots and Knowlton continues the sales pitch for following in the family footsteps and working for the One World Conspiracy, but Michael shuts him down with "If my mother is so brilliant, and actively [in the One World Conspiracy], what do you want with me?" The short answer: two evil Scofield geniuses working on the Scylla Project, not one. Michael stands up, preparing to head back to his room and plot an escape route, when Knowlton calls, "If I weren't telling the truth, how would I have gotten this?" He slaps down a photo album. Michael opens it, sees pictures of two boys together, and immediately goes into an extended flashback to all his earlier childhood flashbacks.
Dr. Sara's pacing around her hotel suite, too edgy to even do any damage to the truly impressive fruit basket, when she gets a text on her mobile phone to meet at 5416 Grand Street in one hour. So, off she goes to meet her mystery correspondent, since these things always work out so well for her.
Back in Miami, T-Bag and Don Self let themselves into Tia's place and begin ransacking the apartment for any clues as to her Scylla connection. "She's just a stupid girl who dates a criminal! She's wasting our time!" Don sneers, and as T-Bag rifles through Tia's closet, he absently concurs, "It's a signature of Burrows' leadership." The two conclude that when they get back to the swanky suite, they're going to make a play for a new kind of boss -- i.e. Don Self -- and Don threatens T-Bag with defenestration if he doesn't provide an endorsement. I feel like I'm watching election coverage all over again.
So we cut to the swanky suite and Lincoln hitting up the One World Conspiracy for Tia's credit card history. Yes, this is precisely what Linc excels at -- sifting through data and looking for patterns. Gretchen, who is still scanning faces on her MacBook, tells him, "I'm thinking more and more that this is an inside job ... the hardware he brought to the meeting, he could read Scylla right on the spot. Since he's disappeared, I should be able to find this man, but I can't. People you can't find are usually [One World Conspiracy]." Linc's response can be distilled to "... your point?" "It makes everything harder," Gretchen says. She then recrosses her legs so one is swung right in his direction. Then: "Lincoln ... when are we going to get this out of the way?" By "this" she means "the sexual tension I imagine is between us." Gretchen makes an offer no romantic can possibly resist: "With all the mercenary humps I've thrown at guys in my lifetime, I think I'm due for what I want." Linc, alas, has no poetry in his soul: "Don't flatter yourself." Aaaaand, once again Gretchen goes down in flames. What is she, zero for four now? Who exactly has she been throwing her lovely lady humps to if her idea of an upgrade is a man who openly loathes her?
Before this scene can get even more awkward for Lincoln, Don and T-Bag come back, loudly complaining about how Linc sent them on a fool's errand. Don then segues into his coup: "Bagwell and I took a vote, and this being Florida and all, you came up a little short." Linc: "Meaning?" T-Bag spells it out slowly: "You're not in charge. He is." We cut to a slyly hilarious shot of Gretchen raising her eyebrows in surprise, then quietly going back to her computer. Don Self blathers on, "The bull-in-the-china-shop routine might have worked when you were stealing gumballs, but our asses are on the line now. And we all have deals with the General, so that's the way it's going to be. You'll notice even Gretchen hasn't leapt to your defense." Without looking up from her laptop, Gretchen sighs, "Linc, let him wear his crown." Linc mutters, "I would if I thought he wouldn't try and sell this thing." Don Self continues blustering, and right before the LINCOLN SMASH moment, there's a click in the door. Everyone immediately has their guns out ...
And in walks MAHONE! I KNOW! He somehow managed to get across the country whilst evading Federal detection, brokered a deal with the One World Conspiracy, and is standing there ready to kick some ass and chew some bubble gum. Gretchen checks out the beautiful sight and quips, "Uh-oh. There's been a recount." Ha! Mahone asks, "Bad time?" Not at all. Linc turns to look at Don Self, whose bravado is now running in a warm stream down his right leg, and says very softly, "The second you stop doing what I tell you to do, I'm going to blow your brains out." Oh, Mahone. You made this beautiful moment possible. Thank you.
Meanwhile, up in the top-secret Restoration Hardware Catalog Shoot and Rehab Ranch, Michael's sitting outside at one of the tables and splitting his time between flipping through photos and going into flashbacks to flashbacks of his childhood. Dr. Knowlton comes over and inquires as to the photos. They depict a family camping trip taken when Michael was ten -- which is patent BS, given that Aldo Burrows allegedly left the family when Michael was too young to remember him (hence Michael not recognizing Aldo during the incident where Aldo killed his abusive foster father) and that inspired Michael to take Christina's maiden name as his last name. So whatever ridiculous arguments Knowlton comes up with in his efforts to mess with Michael's head aren't even worth documenting at this point, what with how difficult it is to hear them over the giant sucking sounds coming from the huge freakin' holes in the show's already-gossamer-thin continuity. Bah! What you need to know about this scene is that Knowlton is really pushing the little-boy-lost angle with Michael, hoping that a child's love for his missing mother will be enough to override any rational thought regarding this bullshit racket. Hold strong, Michael!
And now that the conscripted conspirators have Mahone on the team, they can use his tracking-fu to draw lines between Tia and Titus Welliver. The team quickly deduces that they're trying to get Scylla out of the country by boat, undetected. Oh, and also, Don Self corrects T-Bag with the correct term of getting off a boat -- disembarking, not debarking. T-Bag is flushed with humiliation over this, and has probably decided that Don Self is going on his list of people to kill once the opportunity presents itself. Anyhoodle, the team's off to the marina! As everyone scatters, Linc calls for Mahone, then says, "Thanks for coming when you did." Mahone responds, "You helped me like you said you would. I owe you." These two have come so far.
Dr. Sara walks in a very nice public plaza and waits. Oh, I'm sure nothing will happen to her.
The five conscripted conspirators pull up in a marina I swear is in SoCal, but is allegedly in Miami. Don Self immediately sets eyes to rolling by announcing that he'll do the talking at the marina, and he presses Mahone into service as a sidekick. The manager guy comes on all to see what's up, and Mahone whips out Tia's license and asks if the manager recognizes her. The manager says, "Can't say I do. Wish I did -- nice little tomato there." Wow -- I have never heard of anyone referring to a woman as a "tomato" outside of a Bloom County strip. I dub this manager "Steve Dallas" until further notice. Mahone prods Steve Dallas with "She was in here with another man," but Steve Dallas is all "Can't help. Sorry." Don flips out his (now discredited) federal badge and introduces himself as a Homeland Security agent. He adds of Mahone, "And this is my partner, Bruce Liberace." Mahone sighs before deadpanning, "No relation." Don Self tells Steve Dallas, "Our department is working with the Office of Foreign Assets Control ... we're looking into smuggling and contraband transportation of Cuban cigars." Steve Dallas protests that his marina's as clean as a whistle, but Don Self says, "That's for us to decide. Now, it's going to take about a week, and it's going to involve us shutting down this entire marina." Steve Dallas looks at Mahone, who nods, "Oh, yeah." Steve Dallas cracks -- Tia and Titus were there yesterday, they have a private charter coming in from Nassau, Bahamas, and it's already arrived.
Cut to Don Self detaining a line of people as they get off the boat from Nassau. He's slipped into his old Federal patter, and Mahone has slipped into his old Federal skulking ways, and soon, Mahone settles on a nervous-looking kid with a backpack. And the guy is not nervous merely because T-Bag and Gretchen are the ones conducting a quick luggage search. The college kid breaks out of line, runs like mad, and prompts a chase sequence. From the depths of the couch, Mr. sobell says, "I bet you we're going to find out that he's freaking over cigars or something." And you know what? It's a good thing I didn't take that bet because Mr. sobell is mostly right -- the kid freaked because he had three joints in his bag. Insert the sad trombone (as played by Bruce Liberace) here: whah whah whah whaaaaaaah.
We cut to a much younger Michael and Lincoln dressed up as space robots for, one hopes, Halloween and not the first day of school. Li'l Michael looks delighted to be living his cyborg dream; Li'l Linc looks embarrassed. It turns out Michael's poring over a family album in the kitchen of the luxurious villa, and Lead Security Goon whaps with a box of aluminum foil ands says, "Make yourself a helmet. Just like old times." Michael does not dignify the attempted slight with a response. He's too busy flashing back to old flashback footage of his heart-to-heart with Linc immediately after his mom's (apparently fake) funeral. Dr. Knowlton skulks in a doorway and observes Michael's freakout while he receives a tongue-lashing from General Von Baldy for his failure to brainwash Michael in less than 24 hours. Dr. Knowlton exposits, "Scofield's exhausted, despondent. He's very resistant, but a classic abandoned child. He'll come around ... unaided, three days. [With the penathol], sooner, but it's nearly a chemical lobotomy. If he turns on his own, it'll be his decision, his reasoning. We'll own him forever." The General opines, "Scofield's squirrelly. I won't trust him 'til he walks on hot coals." Dr. Knowlton is confident he can bring Michael around -- and General Von Baldy threatens him a little to do so.
Dr. Sara's impatiently waiting in a public square. Fortunately for her, a public phone rings, and as she jogs up to get it, a black van squeals around to the curb right near the phones. A team of men in black ski masks gets out and abducts her -- somehow attracting no attention from anyone else in the busy public street opposite the Disney music hall -- and as Dr. Sara shrieks in fright, they cram a hood over her head and stuff her into the van. Again, I would like to point out that everyone around her is oblivious to the abduction. And as the van drives off, all the pedestrians dumbly watch it go. Because, of course, not a single person would have whipped out the cameraphone to get a snap of the van or call 911 or anything. You know, I suspend disbelief for a lot of narrative conventions this show takes for granted (one-armed men with superpowers, lady assassins with flawless manicures) but you're telling me our city streets are such that any flashy and suspicious abduction is merely shrugged off as street theatre?
Anyway, the van makes it to its destination -- a parking garage -- and Dr. Sara is walked over to a sedan and pushed inside. Surprise! Not only is Dr. Sara still in possession of her faculties, as opposed to going into a PTSD-induced fugue from being kidnapped twice in two months, she's now face-to-face with Lisa Tabak, daughter of General Von Baldy. Tabak says, "Forgive the dramatics. The [One World Conspiracy] can't know I'm talking to you." Dr. Sara spits, "You are [The One World Conspiracy]. You're his daughter." Lisa's all, "a-HEM, I know where Michael is," and that makes Dr. Sara reign in the bitter snark and play ball. Lisa explains that Michael's approximately 60 miles northeast of downtown Los Angeles, and the One World Conspiracy is beavering away at "carving out his personality. That's how they recruit." Dr. Sara is skeptical, but Lisa explains, "Clandestine warfare isn't pretty, but the rules of engagement don't include torturing and killing the innocent -- at least not for me. Michael is the object of a quick and nasty process. And you're wasting time. Out. OUT!" Dr. Sara stumbles out of the car and off to rescue Michael. You don't suppose those nice chaps in the van will give her a ride, do you?
Mahone and Self pop back into the marina office, interrupting Steve Dallas's furtive conversation with someone on the phone. Mahone's mission? To get the footage off the security cameras. Steve Dallas snaps, "Not to offend either of you, but I took the liberty of calling my attorney to find out what the scope of your authority is here, and he tells me there is no --" Steve is silenced when Don Self pulls out his gun and repeats that he wants the tape. Don gets the tape. Mahone whistles tunelessly. No idea why -- it's just funny.
Back in the hotel suite, Don Self and T-Bag are debating about whether or not they've missed Scylla, but Gretchen's too busy to listen to their prattle. Instead, she's furtively finding a match for Titus Welliver's face. Meanwhile, Mahone and Linc are having a little chat about Michael's health ("He's alive," Linc says) and Mahone says leadingly, "So we get Scylla ..." Linc replies, "And we're free. All of us -- Pam, LJ --" "Ahhh, all of a sudden the [One World Conspiracy] grew a heart?" Mahone interrupts. Linc reasons, "They're just tired of us. They want Scylla back, and that's it." Mahone remembers, "We never really had anything they wanted." "Now we've got leverage," Linc says. "Did Michael teach you that big word?" Mahone asks. Kidding! He merely reminds Linc that they don't have the leverage just yet.
Cut to Dr. Sara scurrying around her hotel suite and tossing things into her Bag of Holding while she fills Lincoln in on the One World Conspiracy's plans for Michael. Linc replies, "He can take care of himself for at least one day, until we get Scylla," which seems ... odd. Because isn't Michael so important to Linc that he's working for the One World Conspiracy in the first place? And didn't Michael just have surgery? Am I the only one who remembers this? Anyway, long and pointless conversation short: Lincoln urges Dr. Sara to stay put, but Dr. Sara's not having any of it. T-Bag overhears the whole thing and immediately calls General Von Baldy with an update: "Tancredi got the location of her shining knight. She may be heading there now." General Von Baldy is pleased by this update, and then he demonstrates why he is the head of a giant worldwide conspiracy and we are not by having the good sense to hang up the phone before T-Bag can begin wheedling for leverage. T-Bag is like, Okay. This is not going to go as I planned.
Meanwhile, Dr. Knowlton is staring out the picture window, angling for a look at a genuine teak patio set and a private chat with General Von Baldy on the phone. Knowlton pushes for moderation, but the General -- who appears to have come down with a stress headache -- snaps, "The Burrows-Scofield family would have been a formidable asset, but since his lapdog insists on complicating matters, we move on." Knowlton says, "General, we can handle a lone female," but Von Baldy suspects Dr. Sara may have more forces at her disposal. So it's a quickie lobotomy for Michael after all! His van to the brain-zapping facility arrives in 20 minutes. A heavily sedated Michael will presumably be loaded in.
We then cut to this tableau: Lead security goon loading up multiple syringes with mysterious clear liquid outside the bathroom, Michael flashing back to his old tattoos within. He pulls out the bottle of drain cleaner and we see Michael also flashing to the aluminum foil and to the water heater in the closet behind him. Michael broods some more, no doubt suspecting what awaits him once he opens the door.
Back in scenic Miami, Don Self is getting all excited because the security footage has finally spat up images he recognizes. It's Tia, along with Titus Welliver. Mahone says they need to pull that image so the One World Conspiracy can match it. Naturally, their thoughts all turn to Gretchen for this job, and that's when Linc notices she's nowhere to be found.
That's because Gretchen is busy sipping a drink on an outside patio. She's also swapped out her Jungle Red nails for something in a seashell pink. Have I already mentioned how much I adore Gretchen's meticulous and patently unrealistic grooming? I'm just saying, a woman who maintains a flawless manicure whilst in the middle of a challenging work project is someone we can all learn from. Anyway, Titus Welliver marches on over to her table, and Gretchen pushes a chair out for him using one stiletto-ed foot. Titus Welliver rolls his eyes and sits down. He asks how Gretchen found him, and she drawls, "Once I found your mug shot, it really wasn't that hard getting a legit cell number." Gretchen kicks into her "I-used-to-be-a-tool-of-the-One-World-Conspiracy" spiel, but Titus Welliver cuts her off with, "I know who you are. What do you want?" Gretchen answers with bright sarcasm, "To solve your problems. It is what gets me up out of bed in the morning." It's worth noting that he hasn't looked directly at Gretchen once. Perhaps his intel is bad or his reading comprehension skills are: he read "proceed with caution" as "Pretty sure she's a gorgon." Gretchen continues: she knows Titus Welliver and his client have a big problem or else the two of them wouldn't even be meeting right now; she can make that problem disappear for a few million. "And it's about to double in a second if you don't look at me when I'm talking to you," Gretchen snaps. Titus Welliver finally looks at her, and Gretchen snarls, "You go run and talk it over with your boss. Call me with a number." Titus Welliver's authorized to negotiate: "If you serve up whoever's looking for us and get the [One World Conspiracy] off our back? Ten million. Best and final offer. Ask for a penny more, and I'll shoot you in the chest and take my chances." We switch scenes before we can find out if Gretchen decides to negotiate.
Why must we change scenes? Because there's a chemical lobotomy to perform! The lead security goon wanders into Michael's room and wrestles him into a headlock, while a backup goon hovers over Dr. Knowlton. The headshrinker whips out a syringe and chides, "This is for your own good." But before Michael can inquire as to whether the words "Hippocratic Oath" are merely nonsense syllables to Knowlton, there's an ominous creaking noise in the bathroom. Expendable Goon goes to see what it is, and we all learn at once that Michael used the drain cleaner to rig a bomb out of the water heater. Attaboy! The exploding heater takes out Expendable Goon and knocks Knowlton to the floor. During the watery melee, Michael grabs a gun, trains it on Lead Security Goon, and orders him to inject Knowlton with whatever mystery concoction was in the syringe. Lead Security Goon reluctantly complies, and Knowlton's down faster than the post-strike ratings for this show. Michael then orders Lead Security Goon to cuff himself to the bedpost. WHY he doesn't simply cap the goons -- it's not murder if it's self-defense -- is beyond me. Hasn't Michael learned anything about the One World Conspiracy yet?
No, because he's decided to just wander around the spacious estate on foot. "I'll take my chances with a few guys in ATVs!" chortles the guy who just had brain surgery. I'm thinking that operation removed his common sense. Michael runs off into the woods, his pursuers hot on his trail.
Back in Miami, Gretchen's strolling back into the hotel room and making a big show at having closed a deal. Everyone instantly suspects her of lying, in part because she's chatting with her imaginary friend on the phone with far more cordiality than any of them have ever seen. That's Gretchen's first tactical error -- no death threats toward her invisible correspondent. Her second is having a complete story to feed her temporary partners about the buyers (Lawrence Wilcott, tenured stooge of the One World Conspiracy). However, there is just enough doubt for the boys to skip their "We'll nail Titus Welliver thanks to the One World Conspiracy's unmatched databases!" ploy for Gretchen's "Let's go to a location of my choosing just because I say so!" pitch to work.
We go back to Michael running, running, running. For someone who has just had major surgery, he's in remarkably good shape. How freeing it must be to not have to stop and clutch his head every ten seconds! However, that still doesn't make him faster than ATVS -- or bullets. Michael spends a tense minute or two being shot at or nearly run over, and right as he runs across a road near a gate, it looks like he's about to be both, along comes Dr. Sara in a Jeep! She barrels into the ATV, sending it and the goons over a handy embankment, then tells Michael to hop in. He does not need to be told twice.
Meanwhile, Gretchen and the boys are standing on the top floor of a garage, arranged in a manner that suggests nothing so much as a more felonious version of Gladys Knight and the Pips. Gretchen continues to spin her cock-and-bull story about Wilcott and how he's rented out the entire top floor of a nearby building. Mahone is not buying it: "Top-level [Conspiracy] in a big glass building ..." but before he can continue to poke holes in Gretchen's story, the click of a gun being cocked distracts him. Everyone spins around to behold Titus Welliver and his back-up band of well-armed pips. Then Gretchen swings out her own gun and joins Titus Welliver. The three series regulars we know and love, plus Don Self, are now surrounded by armed-and-dangerous people.
Don Self reacts to the betrayal poorly: "You whore! You're a whore! And your mother was a whore! And her mother! And your father used to turn tricks at a gas station because he was a whore too!" So what Don is saying here is that Gretchen is really JT Leroy. Suddenly so much -- both in Prison Break and in New York's literary scene -- makes sense. But how to explain how well-adjusted Rita is? Anyway, for some reason, Don Self's prissy little tirade makes T-Bag uncomfortable. It merely makes Gretchen think of sweet little Emily, and within a second, she's shot down all of Titus Welliver's backup goons. She apologizes to Titus Welliver with, "Sorry, but right now, I want my life back more than I want your money." Yes! YESSSSSSS! My beautiful dream of Gretchen settling in Irvine to head up the PTA and systematically hunt down and kill the Real Housewives of the O.C. will come to fruition! Oh, I can't wait to see where Gretchen stands on peanut allergy policies in the classroom, or how she deals with the first parent who cuts in the school pickup line. Dear Prison Break: Please make Gretchen's new life the basis for your spinoff. I will recap it eagerly. Love, sobell.
Linc could care less about my beautiful dream; he wants Scylla. Titus Welliver's like, "I will gladly show you on Tuesday ..." but Mahone shouts, "He's stalling, Linc. It's gone." Titus Welliver concedes, "You're right. Since all you guys can kiss my ass, there's only one thing I want to accomplish right now." And then Titus Welliver DESTROYS MY DREAM. He shoots Gretchen! Mahone drops Titus Welliver (serves him right!) and decides to interrogate Gretchen during her (presumed) last moments. We learn that she knows nothing about who has Scylla. As T-Bag and Linc go through the bodies for incriminating evidence, Don steps over to Gretchen's prostrate body and points out, "Just because she switched sides doesn't mean she wasn't going to kill us two minutes ago." It pains me to admit it, but the meathead has a point. As Linc wheels over and points his gun at Gretchen, Don Self urges, "Kill her. We're not leaving her here for the cops and we're not taking her to the hospital." Gretchen barks out, "Why? I didn't let you get slaughtered." T-Bag suddenly develops a conscience and says, "She's got a kid." What -- you're reserving the right to damage Emily for life yourself, T-Bag? Don Self discounts that with "the kid doesn't even know it's her mother" and continues to urge Linc to kill Gretchen. You know, if he wants her dead that badly, he needs to do the job himself. We've already established that Don can kill when he thinks it's necessary. This scene reeks of contrivance. Gretchen continues to expire of natural causes, and Mahone finally weighs in with "We're not them." This decides Linc, and he tells Gretchen: "Keep your mouth shut and you'll get to see your kid in visitation." Gretchen gasps, "I know what the General will do to me if I talk in prison. Believe me. I know him well." The guys take off right as the police sirens kick up. Don Self is visibly disappointed they didn't kill Gretchen. I am visibly disappointed they didn't take "We're not them" sentiment one step further and take Gretchen with them. Seriously. I never thought I'd write this, but: BRING BACK GRETCHEN.
Well. Now that all the excitement's over, Michael can stand on a bridge and brood. It's not like General Von Baldy's going to be calling for progress reports or anything, right? You'd think at this point, he'd be better at brooding on the run. Dr. Sara comes on over, and instead of asking, "Who's dating a bad-assed motherf---er? Other than you, I mean?" she just asks, "What happened?" Michael finally manages: "I think my mother's alive." Well. That kills Dr. Sara's bad-assed motherf---er buzz. Michael stands there and fights back tears. One only hopes that Dr. Sara retains enough presence of mind to drag him into the Jeep and take off before the wave of henchgoons descends.
Back in the Miami apartment, the atmosphere is so thick, it can be scooped like ice cream. When dead Titus Welliver's mobile phone rings, Don states the obvious: "That's his cell phone. Answer it!" Linc -- whose shirt is still snowy-white despite the day's labors -- snaps it open and says, "Hello?" Oh, just once, this show needs to go off the Solemn Delivery Ranch and take a risk, and I think having the other person answer gaily, "Hellooooo! I am an eccentric evil genius! With whom am I speaking?" would be awesome. Unfortunately, this episode is busy taking itself seriously, so there's only an awkward silence on the other line. To fill it, Linc begins speaking: "Your boy is dead, and now I'm coming after you. You hear me? Whoever you are, I'm coming after you." The woman on the other end of the phone seems moderately unnerved by this. After she hangs up, the lady picks up Scylla and wafts -- the only word appropriate for someone in ivory silk lounging pajamas -- wafts over to a set of French doors. As the lady stares beyond her marina view, some younger meathead comes along and inquires, "Who was that?" And the shaken Christina Rose Scofield says, "It was my son, Lincoln."
A genius-level IQ and she can't comprehend why the son she flung to the tender mercies of the social services system might grow up to be a growly thug? THIS is the caliber of brainpower the One World Conspiracy had on Scylla. It is doomed. DOOMED!
We cut to Linc, then to Michael, and then to the not-so-late, not-so-great Christina Scofield. The family resemblance is there, if by "family resemblance," you mean "complete shock and irritation over this latest wallop from the random Fates." And that's pretty much is for the first two-thirds of season four. You like how the only thing that got resolved was Michael's tumor? And how yet another character has been raisedfrom the dead? Yeaaaah. Enjoy stewing for the few months on hiatus. Please submit your nominations for the character to be raised from the dead (ahem, ahem,Kellerman), or brought back with an "I'm not really dead!" (do I stutter, Kellerman?) or recruited for a spirit-lifting cameo (HELLO, KELLERMAN) in the forums. And I'll see you in the spring.
Anyone who watches PB knows it tests the limits of suspension of disbelief. We count the many ways in our Prison Break: They Did What? gallery.