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Well, those of you hankering for a little prison romance almost got your wish in this episode, didn't you? After T. Bag exits the infirmary, his posse gets him a coming-home present named Seth, but the comely young lad is relegated largely to the role of ceremonial pretzel-bearer as T. Bag gets distracted by a prison C.O. a few of the inmates cornered during a riot.
Of course, T. Bag actually started the riot after Bellick's taunts about his stereotypical Southern Gothic provenance hit home, but let's skip over that part. There's a riot. Michael is thrilled at first -- he needed the riot in order to be able to blast holes in a wall without fear of interruption -- but things quickly get more complicated as T. Bag discovers the hole and invites himself along on any would-be prison breakouts.
And then, because Michael's day isn't complicated enough, he learns that Dr. Tancredi's trapped and mere moments away from being handed over to a prison populace that's gone a long time without biological female companionship. So he's off to rescue her.
In the meantime, Veronica's suspicions about Nick the legal beagle conveniently evaporate -- right as Kellerman puts Plan B into motion by setting up an inmate to kill Linc on the inside. When we go to the To Be Continued screen, a battered Linc is being led to his possible death. Start your betting now. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
You know, FOX is like the network that cried "wolf." A few more of these "graphic scenes" warnings and I'm just going to shrug. We open on Chicago's Navy Pier, where the usual family-friendly theme park activities are taking place. A heavily tattooed fortysomething guy is picking up tickets from the vendor and handing them to his squealing children. "Just a few more rides," he warns. He kisses one boy on the top of the head and the children galumph off-screen.
The guy turns around and -- aiiieee! It's Agent Kellerman. He's stealthy is what he is. With that sharklike grin we -- okay, fine, I -- have come to know and love, Kellerman remarks, "Boy, Adam's getting bigger. What is he, ten?" The guy snaps, "Not here." Kellerman says they need a favor, and the guy says, "I've been out of the life for years. You know that." Kellerman nods and says, "Problem is, Diamond, nobody's going to believe that if I take the heroin out of my pocket and put it in the glove box of the reasonably-priced minivan you have parked over there. I will cuff you, I will drag you out of here in front of everyone." Diamond cocks an eyebrow, and they begin to do business.
As we keep panning over the lovely Chicago skyline, we hear someone carrying on about how we need to reduce our crippling dependence on fossil fuels. Yeah, good luck with that. It turns out to be a tape of the guy Lincoln's accused of killing, and Veronica's watching it. Her phone rings, and she lets the machine get it. Wendy the assistant's calling to let Veronica know that Nick the Legal Beagle has left no fewer than six messages for Veronica. She dives for the phone, asking breathlessly, "Did he ask about me? Did he say I'm pretty? Did he cop to being part of a massive conspiracy?" Or something along those lines. She tells Wendy to run phone interference on Nick the Legal Beagle tomorrow, since her law office's entire operations budget was eaten up by wood-paneling expenses and they can't afford call blocking.
Back at the prison, Michael's bunk is shaking as he sharpens his tool. I swear that's not a euphemism for anything. The camera zooms in to the part of the tattoo inked on the inside of his left arm: it's a rather traditional and scary picture of a devil's head. We soon establish that this is a different tool from the Philips-head screwdriver, although that soon makes an appearance as Michael pops the sink off the wall and crawls out of the cell. We see him wandering around, looking very photogenically sweaty in his gray t-shirt. Once he gets to a certain part of the prison, he stops and paces forward very deliberately from some yellow, light-bedecked scaffolding to the wall. After some more very precise pacing and measuring, Michael stops by a yellow beam, raises his shirt sleeve, and finds a specific mark on his left deltoid. He uses it as a measure for marking the beam, and then proceeds to set up what looks like a tripod. It is to Wentworth Miller's immense credit (and great bone structure) that he manages to make surveying look like foreplay.
Speaking of foreplay, it's bed check time back on the ol' cellblock. This gets Sucre all hot and bothered in a not-so-good way. Will Michael get back in time? Tension!
Meanwhile, back on the outside…Veronica decides to leave her apartment and -- aiiieeee! Nick the legal beagle's nearly as stealthy as Kellerman. "You gonna tell me why you haven't returned any of my phone calls?" he demands. "Because you're creepy! With the sneaking!" Veronica replies. With her body language. Nick puts her on the spot with, "Do you really think I had something to do with that missing tape?" and Veronica hems and haws some more. She needs to learn the Way of the Knee: is it not written that a patella aimed at the groinal area will make your point more effectively than stammering, "I gotta go"? Nick pursues Veronica out of the building, then gets all shocked when a local building super seems to think that he's bothering the little lady. He watches Veronica go and snots, "You're being paranoid." But that's not a bad character trait to have when you're onto a conspiracy!
Meanwhile, the one alert and competent CO in the place is standing outside Cell Escapara, demanding that Michael show some skin. Yeah, you and a couple million viewers, buddy. All we see is a huddled form on the bed, and the CO trains his flashlight on the unmoving lump while the music swells ever more ominously…and then Michael's fake-sleepy head pops out while he drawls, "Trying to get some sleep, boss." The minute the hyper-alert CO walks off, Michael tells a wide-awake Sucre, "I can't get through the wall." Sucre's all, "What do you mean, you can't get through the wall?" Michael clarifies, "I know how to do it, I just don't have the time to do it." Sucre flippantly notes, "We're locked up. All we got is time." Michael clarifies even more: "You don't understand. I planned this break on a schedule. Constantly coming up here for count won't let me do what I need to do to get through that wall. If I'm not back on schedule, which means we're through the wall at the end of the day mañana, we're not getting out of here." Sucre leans down and snaps, "There are three things that are certain in life: death, taxes and count." Then his big mouth keeps running away, and long story short, they're now convinced that contriving to put the entire prison in lockdown is a good idea. And the way to do that? By turning up the heat, of course. I hope Westmoreland's leading the interlocutory injunction workshops for everyone as they swelter in their cells.
Commercials. And boy howdy, judging by the emails I've gotten, it looks like Patricia Heaton = new national nightmare in aisle eight. Anyway, in this batch: didn't Charlize Theron already uggo up once for the Oscar? Also, EPT! I love how you've incorporated the "It's how you can find out that you won't be required to change your life, you selfish barren cow!" message into your commercials.
Ah, rap! It must be time to see some black inmates. Sure enough, there they are, all walking through the courtyard in perfect time to the music, and playing basketball and working out with weights. And as the inmates continue passing shivs and shanks under the guards' noses, we see some guy chatting on the phone. Well, to be more accurate, we see his hand tapping the top of the phone booth; it's sporting a leather tie bracelet. The mystery man's chatting with Diamond, who's all, "Yeah, heavy hitters want this done, so I want this done. No screw-ups." The guy promises, "For you, Diamond, not a problem. Burrows is as good as dead."
As the faceless wonder slams down the phone in what the Foley artists clearly hoped was a menacing fashion, Linc happens to walk by in his oh-so-unflattering prison jumpsuit. Between that and the haircut, he looks like he just wandered out of a party where the theme was "Dress as your favorite Ridley Scott character!"
In another part of the yard, the inmates are going nuts as Dr. Tancredi walks toward the fence. She calls out to Michael, "Hottest April on record." "Global warming," he responds. Yeah, these two are penal system's answer to Tracy and Hepburn. Dr. Tancredi asks if Michael has a minute and he says, "About five years' worth." She's all, "Sorry. Right." Inside, it's all, "Oh, I'm so awkward! Now he'll never ask me to the spring cotillion!" The good doctor continues, "You never told me Lincoln Burrows was your brother." "It never came up," Michael reasonably points out. "I'm curious if that isn't because of my father, the governor. He may not be the one pulling the switch, but you and I both know he has the power to grant clemency and he won't. And he never does." she continues. Michael Blue Steels at Dr. Tancredi as he says, "My old man was an abusive drunk who abandoned his family. I don't judge anyone by their father's actions. Or inactions. If that was your concern." Dr. Tancredi gets even more flustered and embarrassed, and says she doesn't agree with her old man, and she's sorry about Lincoln. Michael -- who apparently hasn't blinked once -- tells her he appreciates that. Dr. Tancredi tries to hold her own in the staring contest that's just started, but she's up against a world-class goggler, so she quickly turns around. And then she turns around again and says, "This isn't much. Um, I have to give Lincoln a weekly check-up now. If you want, I could schedule those visits to end right before you come in for shots. That way, you could at least see each other on the way in, even if it's just in passing." To indicate that he's moved, Michael stares some more. He thanks Dr. Tancredi, who looks like she was hoping he would ask her to the inmate's spring cotillion. As she walks off, he turns around and looks remorseful for a moment.
Then Michael walks over to C-Note (I think…it's been a few episodes) and gets a hand-powered eggbeater. That sets him back $100. Only state prison can make Sur La Table look like a bargain.
Hey, T-Bag's back from the infirmary. Surprisingly, he gets a very warm reception from all the inmates inside. I suppose it helps when all the African-American inmates are forced to go outside and stand around to rap music. As T-Bag hooks up with a crony, the crew-cut guy tells him, "We got you a little get-well gift." He's sitting in a cell, looking fairly scared. T-Bag stops in the door and, to the great amusement of his cohort, croons, "Awww. It's just the right size." The inmates fall about laughing. Eat your hearts out, Dorothy Parker and Robert Benchley! We have T-Bag at our lunch table again! The guys head out and T-Bag commences coerc-- excuse me, wooing the scared young man in front of him. He's one smooth mack daddy: "You new, Seth? Scared? Look at me, boy. You probably heard stories about me. They're not all true. [Pulls out his pocket.] What do you say we go for a walk?" Seth's eyes bug out with fear, and he looks up at T-Bag with something like resignation.
Some time has elapsed. Once again, Michael is out of his cell. He's currently monkeying with the prison's climate-control system. Within seconds, he's managed to break it. His timing is excellent: it coincides with Veronica dropping by for a prison visit.
As she walks over to what she thinks is her client, the CO's all, "Burrows's counsel is already here." Sputtering, "Excuse me," we see that Nick the Legal Beagle has apparently appointed himself as Burrows' new lawyer. You know, I didn't graduate from any law school, much less land in the middle of a law school class, but isn't talking to someone else's client without permission a lawyerly no-no? Or representing yourself as co-counsel when you're not?
Veronica fails to point any of this out, electing instead to ask, "What the hell are you doing here?" "Talking to my client," Nick the Legal Beagle replies, and Veronica's all, "Oh, no, you di'int!" Lincoln's having none of it, though: he says that Nick's found someone who can help them out. How convenient! And how odd that Nick didn't mention that on any of his prior stalking expeditions. The information Nick has: the so-called witness who placed Nick at the crime scene was actually calling from Washington, D.C. Nick just happens to have "a P.I. friend" who traced the call to the police station. And until now, not one of Lincoln's lawyers thought to ask about the validity of that phone call? Doesn't anyone actually watch the eleventy jillion procedural crime dramas clogging the networks? It's always the little details that trip you up. That this detail didn't come out until now…it seems fishy.
Meanwhile, things are getting toasty on Cellblock A. Michael is keeping busy by stenciling part of his tattoo onto tissue paper: it's the devil portion that we looked at earlier. Behind him, Sucre carps, "You were supposed to turn off the A/C, not turn on the furnace." That man is never happy.
We pan around to the other cells. Abruzzi's hair is looking even limper than usual and T-Bag's little crew-cut friend looks like he just got a prickly rash on his thighs. Seth is now standing up and holding T-Bag's pretzel nuggets in his hands. Again, I promise that's not a euphemism. We zoom down to the cell, and see T-Bag's hand languidly pluck a pretzel. Seth tries to wipe his brow on his shoulder, moaning, "It's getting so hot in here." "Did I say you could talk, Cherry?" Seth drawls. We pan down to T-Bag swooning on his bunk, a cool compress across his eyes. He pulls it off to fix Seth with a glare before saying, "You'll know when I want you to open your mouth." Seth is all, Oh, my God, what fresh hell is this?
T-Bag then hops off the bunk to snipe at Jerry the CO about the heat. Jerry is none too sanguine about the HVAC system's apparent malfunction. And then, because nothing spells "easy day" like "four dozen hot 'n' testy inmates, two guards," the gates slide open and it's time to line up for count. As Jerry walks down the line, T-Bag steps out and yells, "Why don't you transfer us all to someplace cooler? Like Africa?" Everyone grumbles their assent. Why couldn't T-Bag have referenced his native region with, "Man it's hot. It's like Africa hot. Tarzan couldn't take this kind of hot"? That would have been funny. And I can't imagine why Neil Simon wouldn't be thrilled to have a violent pederast quoting his work.
Jerry tells T-Bag to get his ass on the line, but T-Bag stays put. Several other cons step over the line too. On the second tier, Sucre and Michael watch with anticipation. T-Bag's all, "We'll move when the temperature sitch-ee-a-shun is rectified." A second CO radios Bellick and warns him, "We got some cons popping off." Over in the infirmary, Bellick is fairly dismissive of this report, implying that the CO's a big fat wussy for not wading into a pile of four dozen inmates and beating them all senseless.
On cue, this is when Dr. Tancredi wanders over: she tells Bellick she got a call that a prisoner was suffering from heat exhaustion. "He's faking it," fellow medical professional Bellick replies. He tries warning Dr. Tancredi off, telling her, "We got a bunch of overheated cons getting loud in A-wing," and Dr. Tancredi says she doesn't blame the guys. Bellick tells her, "Everything's under control, but you should go back to the infirmary building. When things calm down, I'll transfer your patients over from sick bay. I'm just looking out for your best interests."
Dr. Tancredi replies, "I appreciate that, but Officer Bellick, you and I both know that it's illegal to deny a prisoner medical care, and you could lose your job over it. I'm just looking out for your best interests." Heh. I like how in this little exchange, we've established that Bellick and Tancredi have a history of butting heads and we've manufactured the excuse to have Sara around for when the shit hits whatever fan Michael's jury-rigged. Well played, writers!
Back on the cellblock, Jerry's busy telling T-Bag not to be such a baby, adding, "It's not that hot." T-Bag shrieks, "Not that hot? When [this African-American gentleman to my left] woke up this morning, he was white!" The inmates holler over this. Jerry stands there, searching for the perfect comeback and finally settling for the classic throw-the-drink-in-the-guy's-face move. That does not have the desired effect. The cons continue to riot, and Jerry bellows that they're all in lockdown now.
Michael and Sucre head to their cell, and Sucre's jubilation over the lockdown ploy working is tempered by the news that Michael expects him to come along on his latest adventure. Michael says, "I need you down there -- it's a two-man job. Let's hang a sheet." Sucre objects: "No, no, no, man. You only hang a sheet when you want to get friendly, you know?" Michael asks, "You want to protect your prison rep, or do you want to get out of here?" He hands Sucre the sheet with no small amount of repressed irritation. Sucre pissily unfolds the sheet and puts it up.
Meanwhile, approximately 0% of the non-escaping inmates have heeded the command to get back in their cells. This would all be very tense and exciting and all, except this is, what, the second big prisoner fracas in two weeks? Wouldn't the CO staff have learned that with this crowd, you've got to defuse them fast? Instead, they let T-Bag fan everyone into one hot mass of irritation. And the COs quickly beat feet out of the area. Excellent! Nothing says "enforcement" like "a lot of angry prisoners milling around outside their open cells."
Michael and Sucre nip out, with Michael awkwardly pulling the sink back into place behind him. Aww, boys. You sure you don't want to stick around for this riot? T-Bag's wearing his best angry face.
Commercial time! It's very amusing to me that an episode which begins with someone yammering about needing to focus on reducing our fossil-fuel dependence should have three SUV commercials in one block.
When we get back from the commercials, the inmates' moods haven't improved. If the intense generic-rock guitar is any indication, they've actually gotten worse. The COs get out, but the inmates have swarmed over the exchange gate through which the guards travel. Cue Bellick, who charges toward the gate and bellows, "What the hell's going on here?" Primal scream therapy, duh. Jerry babbles some and Bellick asks him irritably, "You locked it down with inmates still out of their cells?" Jerry huffs that he can handle 20 out-of-control inmates easier than he could 300. The flaw in that logic, of course, rests within the premise that Jerry's able to handle 20 out-of-control inmates at all. T-Bag is doing a much better job of it.
He gets everyone's attention, then says, "Bellick, I got one for you. What do you call a piece of white trash who couldn't pass the cops' exam and now makes less than the mailman? A CO." Oh, the merriment this quip produces! George S. Kaufman and Edna Ferber could only dream of such badinage during their lunches at the Algonquin! Bellick grins, then tells him to get his hands off the fence. T-Bag snarls, "Suck it, pig!" and this time, Bellick lets his riot baton do the talking. It's admirably pithy. Too bad Bellick doesn't take a cue from his little friend: "You know, Teddy, you let me down, and that's hard to do because I don't expect much from the inbred child of a retard."
Cue all the inmates going inconveniently quiet. Don't you hate when that happens -- when the room goes quiet right as something you don't want people to hear gets blurted out? T-Bag hates it too. Bellick leans forward, a malicious smile on his face: "That's right, Teddy. I read your psych records about how your daddy raped his mongoloid sister, and then nine months later, little Teddy pops out." Oh, please. Even Catherine "Cannibals ate mah cousin!" Holly would find this backstory a little too Southern Gothic. ["And the phrasing a little too nineteen-forties. 'Mongoloid'? Reading a lot of Flannery O'Connor lately, are we, Bellick?" -- Sars] T-Bag quietly goes to his angry place, and then explodes, throwing his body against the gate and screaming that he's going to kill Bellick. (Dang, Robert Knepper is good. Scary, but good.) Bellick smirks, conveniently forgetting that T-Bag is the same person who slaughtered a kindergarten's worth of kids, so he's got to have reserves of focused violence that could be very inconvenient at a time like this. He begins rattling the gate and bellowing, "Get on the train!"
Meanwhile, Lincoln's speaking with his counselors, and he discovers that a questionable phone call won't be sufficient to overthrow planted evidence. Nick the legal beagle's all, "So! Lincoln, I can totally track down the false witness in D.C. for you…if mean, suspicious Veronica will let me." Oooh, he's good.
The inmates are making progress on getting that gate down. The COs watch this with increasing trepidation. What was that again -- kick their asses or don't bother to pick up a paycheck? Twenty unruly inmates are easier to control than 300? Bellick orders the COs into his office as T-Bag bellows, "Just what I thought -- the piglets are scared of the big, bad wolf!" Nice nursery tales allusion -- it's a subtle way to reference his old habit of preying on children. The gate rattles some more. Wow, Michael's firm did a really crappy job on this prison. Michael, who is walking through his secret passageway with Sucre, thinks as much when he stops to listen to the riot in progress. Another nice touch: the low rumbling noises he hears from his location really do evoke a train on distant tracks.
Well, the inmates get the gate down and are now running free in the control booth. Then, thanks to flustered nameless CO guy having left his keychain behind in his hasty retreat, the inmates have the keys to the place. T-Bag opens everyone's gates, and inmates on the second and third tiers pour out. Marilyn sees her chance and runs for it too. Westmoreland shouts, "Marilyn, no!" as she gallops off. HA! At last, she acts like a real cat -- contrary and prone to doing the most inconvenient thing possible. Westmoreland stands in the doorway of his cell, agonizing over whether to stay in relative safety where he is, or find his cat. Anyway, the upshot of all this chaos is that Bellick finally has to radio for help, admitting that A-wing has devolved into chaos.
Meanwhile, in the relatively quiet infirmary, the bearded CO is busy getting a glass of water while the sick inmates rally enough to sexually harass Dr. Tancredi as she checks on their health. This peaceful scene is disrupted once Bellick's news crackles across the radio; the inmates all begin cheering in solidarity. Dr. Tancredi looks nervous.
Now we switch to Sucre's gaping mug: he's staring at a wall while Michael explains, "Somewhere behind this wall is the drainage pipe to the old sewer system. We get through this wall, we can get to the pipe. We get into the pipe, we can get into the infirmary. If we can get to the infirmary, then we can get out of here." Sucre stops gaping long enough to grin.
Lincoln's visit with his attorneys is cut short as two COs come over and say, shortly but politely, that visiting hours are now over and everyone has to leave. The CO mentions that A-wing's been shut down and Lincoln says anxiously, "Veronica, Michael's in there." "Will he be okay?" she asks dazedly. Lincoln doesn't answer. Instead, he asks her to go to D.C., as it's the only lead they have (or "have," depending on whether Nick the Legal Beagle is also a conspiracy stooge), and tells her, "I'll take care of Michael."
And again with me and the kvelling: as astute readers have noticed, I am not a big Lincoln fan. Frankly, it's taking a lot of restraint not to refer to him as "Lincoln Log." But here, Dominic Purcell managed to actually convey some anxiety and sell the idea that he's used to keeping an eye out for his brother. Well done!
The baby-faced CO walks Lincoln back to his cell and says, "Sorry about cutting that short." Lincoln replies, "Bob, how many times have I told you not to apologize. It makes you look weak." Heh. What is this funny feeling I'm having? Is it…actual enjoyment of the time Lincoln's on screen? Anyway, Bob explains, "Some clowns breached cell block. But we've got nothing to worry about -- they always keep it locked on both ends." Oh, Bob. You are like this episode's George "Indians? I Don't See Any In--" Custer. Especially since you and Lincoln have just walked into a corridor blocked on either end by unruly inmates.
Unfortunately, the one the guys really have to worry about is T-Bag, who pulls up short and drawls, "I'll be damned. A rookie CO and it ain't even Christmas." You know, it's too bad T-Bag is one of those Fabulously Gay White Supremacists. Otherwise, he could convert to Judaism and get a new CO every night during Hanukah. But I don't even want to think about how he'd play the dreidl game.
Bobby freezes up. Thinking quickly, Lincoln gets himself unlocked and tells T-Bag to scram. T-Bag says, "Finders, keepers? You know, I respect that, I really do. But I think we can work something out?" Linc asks, "What you got?" Behind him, Bobby blanches. T-Bag offers to keep Lincoln stoned to the gills as he awaits execution. Linc declines. Waving his newly-acquired prison baton, T-Bag chides, "You got to learn the art of negotiating." A bunch more inmates lurch behind Lincoln into the locked stairwell. He swings Bobby into a place of relative safety, and then turns to T-Bag and orders, "No blood spilled." And again -- maybe each week should be Linc-gets-backed-in-a-corner-week, because the focused-rage thing he's got going on is working for him.
Meanwhile, Lincoln's little brother is doing some engineering stuff that makes the whole field of mechanical problems look incredibly alluring. Engineering undergrads across the country, you should be sending thank-you notes to this show for making y'all look so good. Sucre's staring at the wall, muscles casually popping out in all directions, and he asks, "That's one big pile of concrete. How do you know where that pipe is?" Michael fits the end of a makeshift projector over his previously-assembled tripod thingy and he says, "I got someone to show us where it is." He flips on the light and -- aiiieee! Es el Diablo! Sucre gets religion in a hurry. Michael smiles, more at what he sees on the wall than what his cellmate's doing.
Somehow, order's been restored to the clinic. Don't get used to it: a big, mean, bald inmate has just jumped the CO and knocked him out. Dr. Tancredi finds this out when she walks out of the private examining room, notices the guard on the floor, then turns around to discover seven feet of leering inmate behind her, asking not-very-nicely, "What's up, doc?"
Commercials. Oooh, the Rock's in a new movie! I refuse to apologize for being excited about this. I also refuse to apologize for my bone-deep loathing of all Burger King commercials. If I were offered the chance to beat that mascot to death with a sack full of Whoppers, I'd have a hard time saying no. The only thing differentiating the creepy, silent stalker Burger King from The Carver over on Nip/Tuck is that the former's got a lucrative corporate spokesmute career. I don't think I will "wake up with the King," thank you very much.
So when we return from commercials, we discover that what's up with the doc is the doc. More specifically, she's been choked by Tall, Dark and Ugly, and only her quick thinking -- jabbing his choking arm with her needle full of penicillin -- gets her free. (And it helps clear up Tall, Dark & Ugly's burning sensation when he pees! Everyone wins.) Dr. Tancredi quickly barricades herself in the examining room. Naturally, because the room doubles as a Doctor Aquarium, all the inmates in the vicinity are soon rushing over to beat on the windows. Dr. Tancredi would have acute sympathy for every reptile that's ever endured a zoo-goer's asinine tap-tap-tapping on its home, but she's too busy figuring out what she can use to defend herself, as the cut phone line's made it impossible for her to call out, and she doesn't carry a cell phone or beeper on her person. In a prison.
Meanwhile, T-Bag's still yap-yap-yapping away at Linc, evidently hoping to talk him into submission. He attempts to draw a metaphor about jackals and antelope but appears to have gotten confused about his African fauna: Linc resembles nothing so much as a pissed-off rhinoceros right now. And then he begins butting heads. He's remarkably effective in mob fighting. Oh, wait -- he's only effective for ten seconds or so. Looks like T-Bag was right about the pack-of-jackals part of his metaphor anyway. He and his little friends drag off the bloodied Bobby. ["Probably to quiz him about what it was like to take Brenda Walsh to the prom." -- Sars]
The camera switches from T-Bag's contemplative face to the stylized devil on the wall, because this show is so subtle like that. Sucre says, "I was raised to believe the devil's got some crazy power, but I don't think shining him on this wall is going to bring it down. Not unless he's got a sledgehammer with him." Michael wipes his face with his arm, thereby hiding any Good God, why must I explain EVERYTHING exasperation. He tosses Sucre his homemade drill -- the eggbeater and the bit he was working on earlier.
Things are not looking good for Dr. Tancredi. The security guard is currently handcuffed to a pipe, and Tall, Dark & Ugly is holding a broken bottle to his throat: this provides sufficient motivation for the CO to lie and say everything in sick bay is peachy.
Back in the tunnels, Michael's looking up toward the ceiling and listening to the noise; he's wearing his "maybe this wasn't such a good idea" expression. Sucre bitches some more about the alleged insurmountable nature of the task ahead, and Michael snaps out of his second-guessing and returns to the safe world of engineering. He explains, "We just need a few small holes… You ever hear of tensile strength? Hooke's Law of Elasticity? … We drill holes in strategic locations, we compromise the load-bearing capacity of the wall…we'll be able to break through the part of the wall that covers the pipe opening…we go in through the tip of the horn, the eyes, the end of the nose, the bottom of the fangs, the end of the braids. It makes a kind of 'X.' Let's get to it." Sucre's all, "Why for you talk in first-person plural?"
Ah, the riot police have finally showed up. What, were they detained on the set of Blues Brothers 2006? Outside, Bellick's nipping at Pope's heels, offering helpful strategies for dealing with the mess. I have a suggestion too: don't goad a boatload of pissed-off prisoners unless you're sure you can take it, Bellick. Pope's day immediately gets worse when Governor Tancredi rings in to inquire as to the general safety of his daughter. Pope assures the governor that Dr. Tancredi's fine, as she's in B-wing and that's locked off from the rest of the facility. I like how Bellick hasn't bothered to tell anyone that his team left behind a set of keys; nothing says "professionalism" like covering your own ass at the expense of your colleagues' lives.
Meanwhile, the sick bay inmates have effected a miraculous recovery: all of them are well enough to bash on the windows of the doctorquarium. Damn ungrateful patients. Tall, Dark and Ugly screams, "I'm gonna dance with you, Doc!" Dance? Well, why didn't you say so? Dr. Tancredi comes out, you two do a quick foxtrot, everything's cool. Oh, wait. You meant something else, didn't you?
In the tunnels, Michael finishes drilling, and turns to Sucre to tell him it's his turn. Sucre gets religion: "No -- I ain't mess with no Diablo, man." Michael almost loses his temper: "We can't afford downtime. We have to switch off drilling." Sucre insists, "It's bad mojo, bro. You kidding me? I mess with him, you drill into him, he gets pissed. And then what, huh? I got enough enemies already." Michael puts on his problem-solving face and eventually reasons, "You believe in God, right? So you're protected. You know he'll protect you, from him." Michael hands over the drill. Sucre takes his leap of faith.
I have to admit, the first time I watched that scene, I was like, "Michael, less with the talky-talky, more with the smacky-smacky upside the head." And then I remembered that I am the same person who still can't watch The Exorcist alone, so it's not like I can mock Sucre from a point of supreme rationality, and that the point of this whole scene may well have been to demonstrate that Michael's prison break depends as much on him engineering people's behavior as well as mechanical solutions. So now I'm less inclined to poke fun. This one time, anyway.
Speaking of blood-curdling things that are hard to watch, it's T-Bag, dragging the battered Bobby down the stairs. T-Bag's face is a chilling mix of anticipation, predatory glee, and merciless anger. (Again, Robert Knepper, my hat's off to you.) The camera pans over the crowd; we see Seth frozen in the back, staring with trepidation. T-Bag gets everyone's attention and screams, "Gentlemen! I assure you, once Bob and I are done getting acquainted, everyone else will get their turn." Bob weakly stirs. The inmates go nuts. T-Bag hauls Bob up and commences dragging him down a catwalk, and Seth watches them go in mute shock.
T-Bag continues to drag Bob along, crooning sweet nothings like, "Don't worry -- I don't got the blickey. My pipes are clean." Bob breaks away and attempts to flee, but his wounds make it difficult for him to do more than scramble along on his elbows, trying to drag himself to freedom. T-Bag drawls, "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. They always think they can run away!" And then he beats Bob to within an inch of his life.
Down on the devil site, the drilling continues. The guys have this conversation as Sucre works:
Sucre: What if we do all this work and the pipe is ten feet that way.
Michael: It won't be.
Sucre: You got X-ray vision?
Michael: I calculated the drill point coordinates, hid them in my tattoo, and then projected them back on to the wall. Everything's been worked out so the image hits the right spot. It's just math.
This is the point where I say aloud to nobody in particular, "Good thing you haven't gained or lost any muscle mass since getting that tattoo!" Continuing…
Sucre: What if your math is wrong?
Michael: You'll drill into one of a dozen gas lines behind the wall. They'll be an explosion, and we'll be burned alive.
Strangely, this fails to make Sucre feel better. Michael's little almost-smile doesn't help. Sucre eventually says, "But you're good at math, right?" Heh.
Back in cellblock A, T-Bag's moved on from the brutal-beating portion of events to the sissy-boy slap party. This evidently counts as foreplay, and T-Bag drags Bobby into Michael's sheet-bedecked cell to seal the deal. T-Bag then kicks Bobby, who stumbles into the sink and pulls it out of the wall as he falls. Cut to Sucre and Michael looking up; they're wearing identical expressions of dread.
T-Bag's attention has suddenly been channeled in a whole new direction. He crouches down, notices the corridor behind the sink, and breathes, "They're breaking out."
Commercial time! You may think Round Table pizza's okay, but spokespuppets wearing tuxedos are rarely okay.
Because T-Bag's something of an idiot, he does not immediately grasp the strategic value of having an undetected escape route. He turns around, bellowing, "They're breakin--" The "--" is a punctuation mark otherwise known as "Abruzzi in your face." Abruzzi grabs T-Bag by the jaw and shushes him. T-Bag's expression abruptly shifts to fear.
Meanwhile, things aren't looking good for our friend the doctor. As she scrabbles for something that can be used as a weapon, one of the cons manages to punch a hole in the glass. He snakes his arm in, hoping to open the door from inside, and she sticks him with a syringe full of some sedative. It doesn't buy her much time, so she breaks open the medicine cabinet.
Outside, Pope's barking commands; he wants someone to shut off the water. Bellick says, "I'll call maintenance," and Pope's all, "Oh, no thanks. I'll have someone else handle it." Pope then gives Bellick A Meaningful Look. When your boss is giving you looks that require capital letters, it's not good.
Michael crawls back into his cell and freezes upon seeing Bobby and T-Bag. "Yeah, we-- we have a problem," Abruzzi stammers. Well, he gets points for understatement. T-Bag immediately jumps in with, "Yeah, Bob here's seen the hole. He's got to go away." Michael turns and faces the wall, electing to also keep things understated by not beating his head against the wall and chanting. "No, no, no, no, no." As Sucre crawls out, Michael whirls around and gets in T-Bag's face with, "No one's going anywhere." "He's seen the hole," T-Bag argues. "So have you," Abruzzi points out. Ah, John -- thanks for that contribution. Sucre picks this time to tell Michael "I told you so." Why Michael hasn't strangled him in his sleep by this point is a mystery. Bob pleads, "I've got a daughter." T-Bag's got the killing lust on him, but Michael grits, "The cops are right outside. And they'll stay outside as long as they know he's alive." T-Bag keeps pressing for death, and Abruzzi makes himself even more useful by pointing out that it would be just as easy for them to kill T-Bag as it would for him to kill the guard. T-Bag's all, "But you see, I've just invited myself on your escape."
Ah, Lincoln. At least nobody's violated your unconscious body as it lies in the hall. Westmoreland -- who is probably out looking for Marilyn -- stops by and checks on Lincoln. Westmoreland helps Linc to his feet, telling him, "Cons got that rook guard in gen pop. Kid's probably dead already -- or wishing he was." Lincoln is still in enraged rhino mode; he bellows, "Where's Scofield?" Westmoreland's all, "Search me." Just then, some muscle-bound inmate named Turk conveniently shows up and says, "You looking for Scofield? Follow me." Westmoreland watches them go.
Abruzzi hustles T-Bag out of Michael's cell, snarling, "Listen up, pervert! You're in as much trouble as he is -- do you understand?" T-Bag hisses, "If you were to stick me, I'm sure I could scream awhile about the escape passage before becoming one of the Fabulously Gay White Supremacists In the Sky."
Dr. Tancredi proves she's no fainting violet: not only does she find a good position from which to attack, she's just fashioned a shiv. As she waits, she puts on her angry face. Go, Sara!
In cellblock A, the inmates who are watching on the monitor shout in joy. One yells, "Yo! Stroke's about to get the doc!" Michael looks seriously alarmed. He runs in to check out the monitor and sees Sara crouched behind an examining table, shiv at the ready. He strides back into the cell and tells Sucre to finish what they started, as he's off to sick bay. The guard's all, "You can't get into B-wing." Bobby was previously under the impression that he and Linc were in no danger of getting caught by rioting inmates, so I'd discount anything he says for now. Michael's all, "No one touches the CO No! One!" And he disappears. Abruzzi watches him go; his frustrated expression only deepens as T-Bag leans in and snarls, "You gonna clue me in, paisan?" Yeah, I get the impression T-Bag's no fun on a road trip. Always asking people to hold his pocket is probably embarrassing at rest stops.
Turk is leading Lincoln into a conveniently secluded part of the prison, telling him, "It's faster if we cut through here." Lincoln is either too dazed from pain or too stupid from whatever to question this. As they lope around, we see that Turk is wearing a leather string tied around his wrist. And just in case we don't remember back 50 minutes, we also get a flashback to him on the phone, assuring Diamond, "Burrows is as good as dead."
And then we see Michael scamper through the prison and pop out on the roof: he runs over to the edge of the roof to confirm that yes, Dr. Tancredi's trapped in sick bay with no way out. The last shot of the episode takes us back inside, where she's resumed her crouch by the examination table, breathing heavily from fear and/or adrenaline, shiv out. Stroke is but a few strikes away from breaking in the window.
Will she make it out? Will Lincoln be killed, thus guaranteeing that Michael's gone to all this trouble for nothing? Will T-Bag be tossed from the escape plan? Will Veronica find something in D.C.? (Do we care?) It's all to be continued.