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It's the day after the escape attempt, and Michael's just gotten the news from Linc that they have another four days to break out Whistler. However, Whistler has gotten the news that the One World Conspiracy is planning on breaking him out that afternoon in something called "bang and burn." I show my age by wondering, "What does REM have to do with getting out of prison?"
Anyway, Susan B. is not too crazy about the "bang and burn" operation, but she pushes it into motion because General Von Baldy (you will remember him as Agent Kim's boss in season two) has told her that if she does not, he will have things done to her that make her three weeks of gang-rape and torture in Mosul "feel like a massage." Susan B. goes ahead with the operation, despite her reservations, and while it is very effective in blowing things up and killing lots of guards, it does not get Whistler out.
This would be because his attempt to get out via a line thrown down from a helicopter is thwarted by one very angry Michael Scofield. Over the course of the episode, Michael and Linc realize the One World Conspiracy plans on killing them off, and they manage to stay in touch to warn one another. This is no mean feat, as Michael's got his hands full with Lechero's new interest in breaking out and in eying Whistler suspiciously. (He was right to do so: Whistler had his orders from Susan B. to kill Michael, balked, and may now regret it.) Linc was also not slacking this episode, what with renting a cabin in the middle of nowhere and rescuing Sofia from One World Conspiracy goons.
Anyway, Bang and Blame -- I mean "bang and burn" fails spectacularly. Whistler is still stuck in prison, Susan B. ties one on as she awaits the inevitable consequences of her failed mission, and the prison guards conclude that Michael and his habit of breaking out of prisons are bad for Sona's general peace of mind. The episode ends with him being dragged out of Sona. Won't Mahone be surprised when he returns to the same prison later?
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The episode starts off with a shot of the Sona visiting pen and one of the most awesome covers of "Don't Fear the Reaper" I've heard in a while. It is awesome because A) it is in Spanish, and B) there is no cowbell, so the mental image of Will Farrell whaling away does not automatically spring to mind. Then we zip inside to get shots of everyday life in Sona, and honestly, it sort of reminds me of the few times I walked through Pritchard Hall back in my undergraduate days.
As Michael walks across the courtyard, he's distracted by Splenda asking if Michael likes his visiting-day togs -- a button-down shirt and wrinkled khakis. Michael dismissively says he does, and Splenda rattles on, "It's a special occasion. My dad's coming today, so I'm just going to wait here until he shows up." This affects Michael. He finally looks at Splenda, and nods, "You look sharp." As he scurries off to see his visitor, he claps Splenda on the arm.
As Michael walks out to see Linc, we see a worker welding new bars on the prison windows. Michael's first words are, "L.J. Is he --" "He's alive," Linc confirms. He adds that the brothers have four more days. Michael says, "Okay. Good," and turns to go. Linc stops him in his tracks by calling out, "Back at the exchange point, I saw three body bags. You, me, and L.J. -- we weren't getting out of there alive. It's the last time I get caught flat-footed." Michael half-turns and says flatly, "You do what you gotta do, Linc. As long as I take care of my end, right?" Linc tries to explain himself, but Michael runs right over him with, "You lied." Linc claims, "I had to lie," and Michael walks back over. He says emotionally, "Your son is my nephew, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for him. But apparently you think I only care about myself." Linc is bright enough not to snap, "That's right, St. Michael -- I totally think you're self-centered and you threw away your life in Chicago for kicks." He merely says, "You cared about Sara and loved her. And I'm sorry. But L.J.'s my son. I couldn't let anything happen to him. You know that." Michael's quiet for a moment, then tells Linc that so far as he's concerned, Linc and the One World Conspiracy have something in common. Oooh, burn.
Meanwhile, outside Sona...Susan B. is letting herself into her hotel room as she tells someone on the phone, "I don't know where he is. I have tried every number I have." She opens the door to a hotel room full of General Von Baldy and his goon squad, then tells her fellow conspiracy stooge, "Never mind. I found him." General Von Baldy pushes Susan B. off her footing early on by noting, "Carter Blue Label. You always had such high-end tastes for a girl from Wheeling." Or entirely fictitious tastes -- that looks an awful lot like a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, but I'm guessing someone somewhere didn't approve name-dropping a real brand name. Anyway, General Von Baldy is displeased. So displeased, he's busted out the name "Gretchen" and told Susan B. they're ending her little mission today with something called "bang and burn." Susan B. replies, "That was analyzed. What you're asking for is too dangerous, not to mention to impossible in the given time frame." General Von Baldy tells her he didn't dump a big bucket of money into Susan B.'s offshore bank account to hear words like "impossible." Susan B. stands firm: "I am doing my job when I tell you to reconsider." And then she is not so much standing anymore; two of the goon squad have pushed her down on the bed so she's pinned. General Von Baldy says, "I don't pay you to be my advisor. You're my operative. You have your instructions. Now get it done, because if you don't, I'll make what happened to you in Mosul feel like a massage." And here is where I would normally crack on how unsurprising it is that the One World Conspiracy uses sexual trauma as an employee-motivation technique, but honestly, I am too distracted by Susan B's eye shadow. She's rocking a blue-and-purple blend that reminds me of what we'd do during slumber parties in sixth grade. Yep -- all we needed was our LP of Seven and the Ragged Tiger and Maybelline's coordinated eye shadow compacts, and we became glamorous little insomniacs bearing uncanny resemblances to Nick Rhodes. Good times! Better times than Susan B's having now, anyway.
Then we flash to Susan B. at Sona, where Whistler is busy upbraiding her for her new habit of popping by. She tells him they're going with "bang and burn," and Whistler snorts that it's suicide, and they have more time. Susan B. glares before spitting out, "My boss wants things to move a bit faster." Whistler tells her to pass along the not-so-small consideration that he "might get killed doing this." Susan B. snaps, "I might get killed if we don't. Between you and me, who do you think I care about more?" That more or less convinces Whistler that indeed, "bang and burn" is their best option. Susan B. tells him, "Be ready at 5 -- that's when it happens. Everybody goes." Whistler asks, "What about Scofield?" Susan B. orders, "Kill him." As she strides off, we see that Whistler's looking troubled.
When we get back from the credits, we see the troubled-looking Whistler sitting around Sona and looking quite angsty. We then zip up to T-Bag looking the very opposite of angsty as he chillaxes outside Lechero's suite. Nice contrast! Lechero goes strolling by an ironwork grille. Michael is hunched behind it like Gollum. Lechero says, "You know the consequences if I'm seen talking to you?" Michael asks Lechero if he can maybe get Il Douché to slow down the new-bars-on-the-windows work. Lechero growls, "After your performance yesterday, I have no further sway with Il Douché." Michael snits, "Then I'm afraid you've brokered your way onto an escape plan that no longer exists." Lechero has an idea that he will share at a future point.
In the now, he's dealing with a pissed-off Sammy. (By the way, Sammy is wearing his tee like a kerchief over his head, and it's a surprisingly good look on him.) Because of Lechero's reduced standing, several prisoners are no longer paying their "debts," and this offends Sammy. He adds, "It's been one week, man, and we lost three men." This is true -- Lechero's goon squad is down 60% over its prior numbers. How is he even still in charge? Sammy more or less asks the same thing, but Lechero's loath to add any new guys. "I'll work with the men I have," he says, walking off. Sammy skeptically asks, "Really, braddah? You, me and the gimp over there -- we really going to run this place?" Sammy recommends bringing on the heavily tattooed and muscled Cristobol, recommending him as "solid, one of them...ghetto boys." Cristobol has two pals who are also busy shaking down a few inmates. Lechero accedes to bringing Cristobol on.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Susan B. is in some dreary big conference room setting up the "bang and burn" with a small army of conspiracy dudes. Where have these guys been all along, and why weren't they better deployed in managing Linc and Sofia? It's a bizarre deployment of resources. At one point, someone actually says, "I do have a call into Sergeant York," and I figure this scene has moved into the realm of the ridiculous. !
So we're on to Sofia reading the newspaper and noting that nobody made it out of the day's escape attempt. Her reading is interrupted by a call from someone trying to locate "the family of Mr. James Whistler." Sofia lies that she's his wife. We soon learn that Whistler has another apartment across town, and his landlord, Tommy Day (another expat American), is calling because some pipes burst and the apartment door flooded. The landlord asks her to come by (he tracked her down via Whistler's last phone bill), and as he does, we see that the One World Conspiracy is listening in on the call. Within seconds, the eavesdropping stooge is calling Susan B. to let her know that Sofia's on her way over to the apartment.
Inside Sona, Whistler's in his cell, perusing his field guide to the birds of North America. He flips to a page where he's written some words about Mahone -- "special ops," "drugs," "family," "One World Conspiracy" among them -- then rips out the page and burns it via an apple-green votive candle. Actually, Whistler's whole cell looks like it came from Pier One Imports -- bronzy votive holders, exotic bird tchotkes, a vase, et cetera. Truly, this humble fisherman has many hidden facets. Michael pops over right then to share the news that they've got four more days in which to escape; Whistler looks sick as he nods. Michael continues that he's not sure how they'll get out, but Whistler's not really listening. He's checking his watch -- "bang and burn" is due to begin in ninety minutes. This reminds me...remember how twenty-four hours ago, these guys were beating the stuffing out of one another? Isn't it great how each man repeatedly landed punch after punch on his opponent's face, yet nobody has any bruises today? Michael finally notices that Whistler's not at all there, and says sarcastically, "I'm sorry -- is this a bad time for you?" Whistler says, "It's been an intense twenty-four hours. I have things on my mind." Michael replies, "Like your last trip to visitation, maybe...forgive me if I'm wrong, but she doesn't really strike me as the girlfriend type." Whistler shares that his visitor was a part of the One World Conspiracy, and she's there for motivational purposes. Then he storms off all pissy-like. Conveniently, this lets him meet up with some rotund bald guy who's rocking a serious eye-patch, and a fat wad of rolls later, Whistler's got himself a shiv.
Meanwhile, on the outside...we have officially run into another episode that features a plotline so extraneous to the main act, it deserves the one-paragraph treatment. Regrettably, it's the Mahone plot this time. We zoom in to his hotel room (where, I might add, the pillow sham embroidery is to die for -- Hable Construction would charge T-Bag's arm and a leg for one of those) and then to Mahone himself, who is hallucinating all the people he killed last season. But as he mumbles, "Shales. Shales..." Agent Lang comes on in. When the sweaty, not-lucid Mahone gives her the Manson Lamps, she mutters, "Oh, my God. What the hell is going on?" And then Mahone has one of the meatiest mental breakdowns on TV: he gradually reveals that he killed Shales because "I couldn't -- couldn't turn him over. Some scumbag lawyer was just going to get him off. Just no, no, no. So I killed him. And I felt...good. I felt, I felt really good." Lang sits down to him, not looking at him, the professional interrogator taking over. Then Mahone reveals that he began hallucinating Shales's final moments, so he took serious hard-core drugs to even out his emotional keel, but once he was thrown in Sona, the pharmacy was low on anti-psychotics, so he "had to...[voice breaks] improvise." Lang winces in very real pain. But then, Mahone channels classic addict behavior by positing that if Lang can score him some pills just this once, he will be able to pull it together long enough to testify. It is a truly heartbreaking scene -- Mahone is begging, and Lang's just admitted that she's down here because she respects and cares about him. But then he's in court and rambling like a demented nutbar in the throes of withdrawal -- which he is -- and when Lang comes in, she catches one look at this and drops the pills she's procured into a trash can. When all is said and done, she has to break it to Mahone that unfortunately, his testimony (or lack thereof) has sent him back to Sona. And that is how Mahone will end up on Re-Team Escarpara.
So, back in Sona: Michael is busy glaring at the workers as they weld the bars onto the windows. Whistler comes up behind him and asks, "Reinforced steel on every window -- how do you think we're getting through those?" Michael -- fidgeting away, as he does when scheming -- says absently, "I'll figure something out." Whistler says warmly, "I know you will. Listen, man. I'm sorry about before." Good Lord, is the man moody. I love it -- ambiguity and hidden motives usually drive me nuts, because I often suspect writers of making crap up on the fly, but I dig how we're allowed to see all these little pieces of Whistler without getting the whole picture -- and I'm really enjoying the weird relationship he and Michael have, where it's part respect and part suspicion. Anyway, Whistler shrugs it off on emotional strain over how vital it is for things to all work out. Michael replies, "My nephew's life depends on it all working out." Whistler says, "I know it does. I never asked: how old is he?" Michael replies that L.J.'s sixteen, and Whistler just winces and mutters, "Oh. Hell."
Before this scene can collapse under the weight of its emotional subtext, T-Bag comes by, lilting, "Knock-a knock-a." He has a letter stuck between the fingers of his fake hand. Hee! T-Bag says, "It's from El Patron himself, but it's meant for your eyes only." Michael takes it, and T-Bag clucks, "Grabby. I know it's no invitation to the Sona Hawkins dance -- what you got cooking up with Lechero, huh?" Michael brusquely tells T-Bag it's none of his business. T-Bag reminds him, "You want to keep secrets? You want to treat me like a pesky insect -- fine. Just remember: information, like crumbs, always trickles down to the vermin on the floor." And just remember, Emmy voters, that scenes like this show why it is near criminal for you to continue ignoring Robert Knepper. Anyone who can grab a scene and delicately steer it from black humor to dark menace is worth noticing. Got it?
What Lechero has passed on is a piece of paper with a diagram and the legend "4:." Michael stalks off after concluding it's a sketch of Lechero's headquarters. Whistler is left alone to look at his pretty new knife. He tucks it into the back of his pants, then trots off to find Michael.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Sofia is being let into Whistler's nearly empty apartment. Tommy Day is telling her that under normal circumstances, if a tenant were to pay a year's rent before heading to the pokey, he'd rent out the place again and double his money, but Whistler was good people, so he refrained. Sofia's not listening; she's looking around in shock at the shell around Whistler's secret life. Or else she's admiring the lovely French doors and beautiful cherry-finish molding around them. Oh, wait -- that's me. Anyway, Tommy Day awkwardly says, "A lot of guys have something on the side...this apartment, whoever he brought here. It doesn't mean he didn't love you." Sofia is still in a daze. Or else she's checking out the coppery one-inch glass tiles that make up the kitchen backsplash. This rental is seriously nice. Anyway, Sofia pulls it together long enough to ask for those insurance papers Tommy Day mentioned earlier, and he leaves to get them. Sofia looks down at the small bed -- or perhaps the lovely light oak flooring -- then notices the shredder full of papers. When she finally opens a drawer, she pulls out an envelope with a pile of receipts, plus an American passport and Social Security card.
Alas, before we get any more intrigue on the outside, we must explore Lechero's latest intrigue on the inside. Michael and Whistler are inside Lechero's suite, and Michael has deduced that there's another door in the room. He pulls aside a tapestry to reveal it, then punches in the 4413 code. This leads to a long hallway and a staircase leading down. Michael and Whistler wind their way down, and Michael charges toward the second door, planning on using the same code again. Whistler hangs back, which allows him to fiddle around for that knife. Unfortunately, the door doesn't open, so there's Michael. There's Whistler behind him, having flashbacks to that long-ago moment before the credits when Susan B. told him to kill Michael. And then Michael turns around and muses, "T-Bag might be setting us up for someone. What do you say we get out of here?" As he goes to pass Whistler, we see that Whistler's got the knife poised behind his back. Whistler says, "I'm really sorry you got caught up in my troubles." Michael gives him A Look...
...And right as Whistler's about to get stabby, there's the clang of a door opening, and Michael pulls Whistler behind a stack of rum cases to hide with him. It's Lechero. He lumbers over to open the door, telling Michael he's the only one who knows the code. Both Michael and Whistler are rolling their eyes in exasperation, only for different reasons. Michael warns, "For a man who likes keeping secrets, using T-Bag as a go-between may not be the smartest move." Lechero figures that T-Bag won't put all the pieces together that quickly. Clearly, Lechero does not have quite the gift of reading people that he thinks he does. Anyway, he leads the men through the door and we're in a long hallway. Lechero explains, "Guard tunnel. The old administration used it to travel between cellblocks A and B. After the riots, they moved us all to B, and then the soldiers came in and blew this tunnel up." The upshot is, Lechero figures they can dig their way through the obstruction. Michael cracks, "Yeah -- me and a couple of payloaders." As Lechero tries to give Michael a motivational speech about digging them out, Whistler notices that they're all of forty-five minutes away from "bang and burn." Michael notices Whistler checking his watch, but tells Lechero, "We're not digging out -- but we might be digging up."
Meanwhile, on the outside...Sofia is discovering that the United States of America is under the impression that Dallas native Mr. Gary Miller would like to go traveling around with his shiny new passport. Before she can see any more, Susan B. has let herself in. I must say, I do like Susan B.'s dress -- it's rocking the kimono neckline and obi sash, but still looks appropriate for strangling someone in cold blood. Susan B. introduces herself as a friend of James's, and immediately throws Sofia off her game by adding casually, "I know where he is." Sofia makes to leave, and Susan B. pushes her up against the wall with one well-placed hand to the sternum. Then she leans in and purrs, "I can see why James loves you. You are beautiful. But if you keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, I'm going to make him miss you very, very much. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? Good." Susan B. then grabs the passport and tells Sofia, "You don't need to worry about this. Now listen very carefully to me, Sofia, and you won't get hurt..." and on it goes, with one of the most patently ridiculous lipstick-lesbian subtexts to come along since the nonsense on The O.C.. My feeling on these things is, either go ahead and have Susan B. lay one on Sofia, or back off the will-she-or-won't-she tease, because it feels a little crass and exploitive. Or maybe I'm just cranky because this scene has reminded me that one of the things this show has always been missing is an enjoyable rapport between two interesting female characters.
Back in the prison, Michael's musing on the assorted ways they can effect this digging escape, and Whistler's getting increasingly more agitated. Michael sets up a future episode premise or four by musing that they'll need a support brace for their work or else the whole thing will collapse and bury them alive. Before we can all shudder in delicious horror at the prospect of some inmate inevitably taking a dirt nap by force, we switch to Sammy up in the suite, playing host to Cristobol and his posse. He bids them to relax, then heads down to get some rum right as Lechero, Whistler, and Michael come out of the super-secret tunnel area.
Whistler and Michael quickly hide, while Lechero heads up the steps to ambush Sammy. The subsequent conversation, wherein Lechero rips on Sammy for letting Cristobol bring his meaty thug buddies in the suite and then denies Sammy rum -- thereby setting Sammy up to lose face with the new recruits -- only brings home the point that it doesn't matter if you're in corporate America or a Panamanian prison: being in middle management sucks. Poor Sammy: all he wants to do is make sure he can continue to brutalize the rest of the prison population, and he's beset by a moody boss.
Once Lechero and Sammy head back upstairs -- and it just goes to show how this show twists viewer sympathies when I'm all, "Oh, good, Lechero will make sure Sammy doesn't look the fool" -- Michael springs back up and says, "Let's get to work." As he jogs to the door, Whistler decides to slide his knife between two cases of rum and leave it there. He points out that only Lechero's got the code, but ha ha ha, it turns out Michael's fixed the lock. The two men duck into the hall.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Susan B.'s just come from her fauxbian encounter to check in with the dozens of conspiracy stooges about to launch "bang and burn," and she snarls, "We've done our part. Now it's time for Whistler to step up and do his." Won't she be thrilled when Michael turns up alive?
We cut back to the tunnel, where Michael is estimating that the guys will have to burrow through three feet of concrete and rebar, then ten feet of dirt and sand. Whistler is looking around with an expression saying, "You will be digging. I will be elsewhere." Then he fakes an attack of claustrophobia. Michael is not what anyone would call "sympathetic," saying only, "I suggest you get yourself together." He does have a way with droll understatement. Whistler flees with, "I just need some air." Michael is soon hot on his heels, demanding to know what Whistler's problem is. Whistler maintains that he needs air. Michael grabs Whistler and says, "You walk in that door with Sammy on the other side, you'll never need air again." Whistler says urgently, "You don't understand: I need to get out of here now." Michael replies that he would really like to know what's really going on, asking, "Why do you keep looking at your watch? What are you really up to?"
Lechero comes down right then to fetch the men. Whistler sprints away quickly. Michael asks Lechero for his mobile phone, saying he needs to call Linc, but Lechero decides that he'll be using phone access as a motivational device: "Cell phone stays with me -- get out of here." Truly, he is a leader with foresight and vision.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Linc and Sucre are busy renting a cabin from a guy who's all, "Just so we're clear...she's got no electricity and no running water. Septic's out too, but there's an outhouse in the woods." I've lived in conditions like that -- it can be done, but you'll think twice before getting up in the middle of the night to take care of business, that's for sure. Linc tells the landlord he'll pay $100 per month, and the landlord agrees after only a little dickering. Rolling his eyes and smirking wildly, he warns, "I don't want you growing drugs on the land." Linc gives Sucre an amused look and says, "You got that?" Sucre smirks back humorlessly. Hee! These two crack me up.
Once the keys are handed over, the boys get to work. Linc and Sucre walk out into the woods -- Sucre carrying a big boom box -- and Linc gives him permission to take off, saying. "I understand, and Michael would too. You've done more than enough." Sucre replies, "If I had a kid in the same situation as your son, would you and your brother walk out on me?" Linc deadpans, "Yeah." Sucre only chuckles. Then the two of them record Linc firing off multiple shots. I am looking forward to seeing when this is used later.
Back in Sona, Michael's tracked down Splenda and asked him to please, please, please pass a message to his dad, so that his dad can then call Linc on Michael's behalf. Splenda's reply: "Hell, no! My papa's straight as razor blade. He doesn't get into any kind of trouble like you do." Michael pleads, "It's not trouble -- it's a phone call." Splenda protests, "No! I love my father." Michael says, "I love my brother. And if he doesn't get this message, something horrible is going to happen to him. Look, something really bad is going on. Please." Splenda folds. I sit and think about how this whole episode has really illustrated Michael's capacity for fierce devotion; not only to L.J., but to Linc. Even though Michael's totally pissed at Linc, he's still hustling to make sure his brother will be okay.
We then go to the Splenda/Papa scene. Papa's brought a gaily-colored package, and his face just lights up when he sees his son. "You look very handsome, like your school picture," he says. Splenda says that he got the shirt by cleaning a guy's cell. Enterprising economists should come in and study Sona's labor ecosystem -- it would be fascinating to see how the service industries in Sona rise and thrive. Anyway...Papa is distraught thinking about how Splenda should be in school with his friends, and Splenda sweetly comforts him with "I have friends in here." He considers Michael a friend because "he keeps his word, which is very rare in Sona." Splenda does not add, "He's also something of a withholding control freak," as that would not make Papa feel better. Papa shows Splenda a birthday present, but he can't stand to look at it. Papa says with forced cheer, "I'll put it with the others." Splenda says fiercely, "I'm not coming home. Accept that." Anyway, he passes on Michael's request. I am now super-curious as to why Splenda is in Sona. For a while, I was suspicious that he was a junior field agent for the One World Conspiracy (a member of JOWC? If ROTC can have a junior chapter, why not the conspiracies?) but now...I don't know.
Then we move over to Whistler, who's now visiting with a grim-looking Sofia. He warns her: "You might not be [safe]. Listen to me carefully. Promise me you won't go anywhere near Lincoln Burrows today. It's just too dangerous to be around him or to be near him. Just go home and stay there. I will call you tonight. That's all I can say. Do you understand?" Sofia is totally confused -- "Call me? From where?" Lord help me, she's channeling a little bit of Veronica right there. Whistler only reiterates how important it is that Sofia understand. She does. He says firmly, "Promise me. Say it out loud." Sofia does, but asks, "Why are you so scared?" Whistler goes all sensitive-boyfriend and says, "I can't have you get hurt. Because I love you more than anything in the world." Sofia, who is clearly doubting everything she knows about Whistler, asks tremulously, "Do you?" He does. Sofia then demonstrates the biggest difference between herself and Veronica by saying, "I got the strangest call today, from a man who says he's your landlord, talking about another apartment. Should I call him back?" Whistler easily and dismissively lies, claiming it was a wrong number. Sofia tries to give him an out with, "He asked for you by name." Whistler claims the guy was confused and lies, "I don't know anything about another apartment. All I know is you've got to stay away from Lincoln." Sofia just looks at Whistler, heartbroken.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Linc and Sucre have returned to his hotel and parked their car on a side street. Sucre is musing that mayhap, some locks on their new house's doors might be in order. Linc points out, "We can't have anything new on it. The place needs to look abandoned." His mobile rings right then. It's Splenda's papa, telling Linc only, "I have a message for you -- don't come home for dinner." Linc hangs up and explains to Sucre, "When me and Mikey were kids, we had a code when Social Services was trying to get me into juvie. He's telling me to watch my back." Or maybe check out your side, as One World Conspiracy stooge Pike is busy watching him. Just then, Sofia pops out on the sidewalk and blusters to Linc, "Why haven't you returned my calls or my car?' Before Linc can explain to her that he was freed from the constraints of etiquette the moment she pulled a gun on him, we cut to Susan B. ordering Pike to take all three people out.
Then we cut back to Linc telling Sofia to take her problems someplace else. Sofia's telling him about Whistler's other apartment, and when she describes Susan B., Sucre explains, "She's the one who has L.J." Sofia rattles on about finding the fake passport and says, "I don't know what's going on." Linc snaps, "Your boyfriend's a liar. I told you that from the start. " Sofia replies, "James told me to stay away from you today, that it was dangerous." And somehow, that's Pike's cue to get out of the car with his posse. As they head toward Linc, Sucre and Sofia, Linc calls Lechero.
Naturally, Sammy picks up the phone. Linc asks to speak to Michael, and Sammy snarls, "How you get this number?" Lechero comes in right then. Linc explains, "He called me two days back. I didn't answer. I need to speak to him now." Sammy hangs up on Linc. Linc rolls his eyes. Fortunately, this allows him to notice the phalanx of conspiracy stooges making their way down the sidewalk.
Back in the prison, Sammy is passing along Linc's phone message, and boy, is he not happy about it. Lechero reminds him who's boss, saying, "Who calls me and who I call is my business." Sammy just glares.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Pike has caught up to Sofia and is asking her at gunpoint where Linc and Sucre are. Sofia plays panicky and dumb long enough for Linc to sneak up behind Pike and put a gun to him. He asks why the stooges are coming after them, but whatever answer there is gets lost in the ensuing melee. Sucre takes out one guy with a well-placed blow to the arm, there's more fisticuffs, and then LINCOLN SMASH! One guy gets planted head-first through a car window.
Then we see that Pike has Sofia. He makes the classic bad-guy mistake of gloating: "Different day, same problem, huh, Lincoln? You know how this turned out when L.J. was in this position. And today is no different. Be a good boy and put down the gun." Linc looks like he's thinking "LINCOLN AM NOT SCHOOLBOY." Pike then says the exact wrong thing: "Come on. I know you learned your lesson." Lincoln concedes, "You're right. I have." And then he kills Pike. Sofia looks at him with something akin to amazement.
Back in Sona, Michael finally finds Whistler in a conveniently empty hall on the second floor. Whistler lies that he's been looking for scrap metal for the tunnel's support braces. Michael says, "Really?" right before he reaches up and pushes back an acoustic ceiling tile that was already loose. He adds, "Looks like a pretty tight squeeze up there. You sure there's enough fresh air, or does the claustrophobia come and go?" Whistler glares at him and asks, "What's it like? Going through life, always distrustful?" Michael gives him the Blue Steel and says, "You tell me, James."
Before this can turn into another rock-em-sock-em fight, T-Bag comes strolling on by with news that Lechero would like to talk to Michael about Linc. Michael is in Lechero's office in a flash, and Lechero tells T-Bag to am-scray. Lechero tells Michael, "If your brother should ever call my cell phone again, you tell him you're the one who's going to pay." Michael doesn't say anything. Lechero then offers him the phone, and Michael promptly calls Linc. Michael's all, "You got the message?" and Linc breezily says, "You were right -- they just tried to take us out." Michael replies, "Whistler got a visit from the One World Conspiracy. He's been acting strange ever since. I'm telling you something's up." Linc adds to that by sharing the news about Sofia and concluding, "The One World Conspiracy's coming after us." Michael's eyes bug out as he concludes, "They don't need us any more. They're breaking him out on their own."
They sure are. We see a helicopter wheel over Sona, and then it opens fire on the guard towers. We see Whistler somehow pop up to the roof -- if it was this easy, why aren't there inmates camped out up there all the time? And then he's raising his arms and shouting for the helicopter. Michael sprints over to where he last saw Whistler, figures out that he's up on the roof, curses briefly, then heads up.
Meanwhile, the helicopters are busy blowing up truckloads of guards and assorted guard towers. When Michael catches up to Whistler, the other man greets him with a right hook. Fortunately, all the getting punched he's endured in the last week has taught Michael how to take a hit. He's still not able to fight back, but he can take a hit or twelve. A second helicopter lowers a line with a bar on it for Whistler, and he grabs it with both hands. As the helicopter lifts him away, however, Michael leaps up from behind him and is now clinging to Whistler's waist. No amount of kicking is going to dislodge him. The pilot radios, "There are two men on the line. Two men on the line." The one helicopter that is not accessorized with dangling prisoners is busy firing onto the courtyard below, dropping smoke bombs and spraying the guards with gunfire, the better to introduce confusion. A gunman tries to take out Scofield, but he can't get a clean shot. And then he can't get any shot, as a guard finally takes him out. Finally, the weight on Whistler gets to him, and he lets go of the bar. He and Michael fall to the top of a building. A pilot narrates for Susan B., "We lost Whistler. Abort! Abort! Mission failure. Return to base one immediately." In the middle of her command center, Susan B. reels. At home, I ask, "Why...why go to the trouble of inserting Michael into the prison if you could do this all along? Does General Von Baldy like incredibly baroque evil schemes? Will we eventually see him sitting around admiring his tank full of sharks with frickin' lasers on their heads?" (I mean, I dig the comic-book style narrative here as much as the person, but come on. This makes no sense at all, and I say this as someone who has read Marvel's "House of M" and "Civil War" events and therefore knows from senseless and overly complicated stories with no payoff.)
Back in Sona, Whistler scrambles to get off the roof. As the alarms sound, we see him rip off his shirt. Note to the writers: please invent more excuses for that. I will accept one shirt-doffing incident per episode with no questions asked, I promise. Michael makes his way inside, baffled and disoriented. He realizes he also has to change his shirt and scrambles through someone's cell looking for a shirt. We get ONE BRIEF MOMENT where we see a shirtless Scofield and his tattooed back, and then he finds another long-sleeved shirt. Argh! Note the second to the writers: if you're going to go to all the trouble to get Scofield's shirt off in a scene, and the actor has to go to all the trouble of getting all the body makeup, at least give EVERYONE their money's worth. Send him outside with no shirt! Or give us more tattoos per episode. Anyway, Michael gets a new shirt on, and then he gets a rifle butt to the stomach as a pissed-off guard hauls him outside. Every inmate is now on his knees, arms behind his head, in the courtyard.
Meanwhile, on the outside...Susan B. is sitting in her hotel room staring straight ahead dully and ignoring her ringing phone. She takes a belt of expensive whiskey. I would feel worse for her, except there's the whole "kill 'em all" thing.
Inside the courtyard, the head honcho of all honchos has strolled over to Scofield and ordered him up. Whistler and Bellick take note of this. The warden says, "Mr. Scofield, there have been two escape attempts in the past two days. Somehow, I don't think it's a coincidence that you arrived shortly before they happened." When Michael protests that he had nothing to do with that, the warden belts him and explains, "You cause too many problems here in Sona." (We get a shot of real problem-causer T-Bag slyly checking out the scene.) The warden concludes, "Maybe you shouldn't be here in Sona. Say good-bye to Sona, Mr. Scofield." As Bellick, Whistler, and T-Bag (all lined up, natch) watch, Michael is hauled away by guards. The doors close behind him -- and the episode ends.
Gosh, I'd be all worried about where Michael would end up, and I would spend the eight weeks or so on tenterhooks...but stupid FOX ruined all the suspense by immediately displaying where Michael will end up. So, way to kneecap your own show, network promo monkeys! Thanks to your gift of revealing, I can now enjoy my Thanksgiving and Christmas speculation-free. And to you few, you proud recap readers...have a good holiday season, and I'll see you in 2008.