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Welcome back, Prison Breakateers! When last we watched the show, we learned that Lincoln and Michael's mom had faked her own death so she could ditch the kids for life in the One World Conspiracy's employ. We also found out that Dr. Sara Gets Stuff Done, what with her dramatic rescue of Michael from the would-be brainwashers holding him hostage in a rustic mountain retreat, and that Linc feels beholden to the One World Conspiracy on account of him not being a complete moron and correctly concluding that a vast and shadowy underground organization with tentacles extending to every continent might not be the one to double-cross when you've promised to fetch them the data bauble you spent the first 80% of the TV season stealing. One can only presume FOX decided the show called for a four-month hiatus because we few devoted watchers were going to need every minute of it in order to reassemble our blown-out logic circuits.
So this episode: Michael and Dr. Sara try to make their way from Arizona to Miami without getting killed by One World Conspiracy stooges or Christina Scofield-sponsored stooges. This is surprisingly challenging for two people who have, between them, two prison break-outs, two torture-session survivals, one tumor, an overdose, and heaven knows how many months of life on the run. Michael and Dr. Sara eventually manage to outwit the stooge who has truck-jacked them, and find out that he was sent by Christina Scofield.
Half a continent away, the One World Conspiracy thoughtfully reminds Team Linc that they've got their collective nuts in a vise grip, and this sets Lincoln back on the path to fetch Scylla. After enduring a Michael Scofield hissy over the phone, Lincoln taps the brain trust on his team (i.e. Mahone) to help narrow down would-be Scylla locations, and that is how he ends up finding one of his mother's safehouses. Via an elaborately faked photo, Christina Scofield guides Lincoln to a bar set in the middle of a Heart video, if the billowing clouds of fog, inexplicable presence of chrome, and flowy garments are any indication. There, Mama Dearest makes her pitch: help her take over the One World Conspiracy, and she'll make sure the organization leaves Lincoln and Michael alone. Lincoln falls for it, the big dope.
(By the way, as part of her plan to turn the One World Conspiracy into some maternal paradise, Christina attempts to kill General Von Baldy via exploding car. Note that I wrote "attempts." If Christina thought General Von Baldy was bloodthirsty before…)
But! Mahone, T-Bag and Don Self track down another of Christina's locations and manage to find a cache of weapons and holographic security cards in a storefront church; these are linked to "a woman" who came down there once. When Lincoln tells them all that things'll be cool once his Mom takes over the One World Conspiracy, all three men voice their doubts about someone who's asking for just enough time to let the date on those ID cards expire. Lincoln follows through on it, and we get an ambiguous scene about how indeed, Lincoln and Michael are really threats to whatever Christina is planning. The episode ends with Christina ordering a sniper to take out Linc. Remember: she's the kinder, gentler face of the One World Conspiracy!
Line of the night: "You think you know what the [One World Conspiracy] is? It's a body that bends to the will of the head. And right now that head is bloodthirsty and war-hungry, because that's who General Von Baldy is. But what if a woman, a mother, ran it?" -- Christina Scofield, incorrectly guessing that Lincoln's grasp of history is sufficiently scanty as to let him fall for this patently sexist nonsense. - Sobell
Can someone figure out Prison Break if they've never seen it? Our vlogger makes an attempt.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Oh, the twists and turns life can sometimes take. When last we left Michael Scofield, he had just been whisked off to a cabin 60 miles outside of Los Angeles, where he was making a surprisingly swift recovery after brain surgery. Well, wouldn't you know it -- your regular recapper Sobell is recovering from some brain surgery of her own, only she's not as quick a healer as the resilient Mr. Scofield. (Prison Break has inaccurate portrayals of major surgical procedures? Unacceptable!) She's doing fine, but capturing the finer details of Prison Break playing out the string is beyond her ken right now, so I'm filling in for this one episode, anyhow. Too bad I stopped paying close attention to this show about the time the gang got thrown into that prison in Panama -- a plot development I liked better when it was called "Season One." Ah well, I'm sure I'll be able to pick it up quickly -- this ain't brain surgery.
You know, if my life starts to mirror the shows I recap, does that mean I'm going to be unceremoniously canceled soon? I hope to hell I can wrap things up less stupidly than Life on Mars...
Anyhow, to business: Team Scylla is still in Miami, but they've apparently managed to get their mail forwarded to them -- there's a bunch of manila envelopes addressed to Linc, Mahone, T-Bag and Don Self. Judging by Mahone's angry reaction to the contents of his envelope, it's not a congratulatory letter from the Publisher's Clearing House people. It's pictures of everyone's family -- T-Bag's sainted mother, the Mahone clan, LJ, and, in Don Self's case, some lady we've never seen before. (If this is the lovely Mrs. Self, ol' Don has clearly married above his station.) A quick call to General Von Baldy confirms what you've probably already figured out -- the photos are intended to motivate our motley crew to step up their Scylla retrieval efforts. This is what you're fighting for, boys! Because if you fail, we'll kill them! Interestingly, I believe Wal-Mart uses this technique for its mid-level executives.
Linc brings General Von Baldy up to date on the action thus far, just in case he hasn't been paying attention since... oh, let's say December. Team Scylla arrived in Miami, killed the guy who was trying to buy Scylla, and lifted a couple of keys off his still-warm corpse. That get everyone up to speed? Not quite, according to the General: There's a new competitor trying to get his mitts on Scylla, and he answers to the name of... Michael Scofield. That can't be, Linc protests, because Michael is in the company's care, getting treatment for his brain thingy. Yes, well, apparently Michael's healing powers are greater than the General, the Company, and the whole of medical science possibly realized -- he's wandering around central Arizona right now with the company on his tail. "If you speak to Michael," General Von Baldy hisses, "tell him to find a very good hiding place. Because if any of my men spot him, they've been given a green light." Seems counter-productive to the life-saving medical procedure you just had performed on him, but hey... You're the general, dude.
Meanwhile, outside Vinny's Pizza of central Arizona ("Pizza so good, you'll go on the lam for it!"), Michael and Dr. Sara emerge, extra-large Flyin' Hawaiian in hand, to resume their cross-country jaunt. They've got 2,500 miles to go, and Michael apparently plans to spend the vast majority of it pouting about Linc's deal with The Company. "Michael, he took the Company's deal to save your life," Sara tells him. "And for what it's worth, I would have done the same." "Then you'd be wrong, too," Michael grumbles. Well, this is going to be a fun car ride. It's also going to be an extremely breezy one, because no sooner do Michael and Sara get into their car then someone -- presumably, an inexperienced Company sniper -- shoots out their windshield. Michael and Sarah flee on foot. For God's sake, don't forget your pizza! It's loaded with toppings!
Credits. You'll be happy to know the show is still called Prison Break and not Byzantine, Unending Global Conspiracy Caper Show. Maybe they're saving that for the DVD title.
Michael and Sara have used the opening credits to keep running, while their incompetent pursuer keeps shooting and missing. They eventually manage to give him the slip by running into an RV park, and the gunman's expression is all, "Stupid RVs. They consume precious fossil fuels and they allow my targets to make a clean getaway."
Back in Miami, The Gang That Couldn't Retrieve Scylla Straight is reviewing its options in a post-Succeed-Or-We'll-Murder-Everyone-You-Hold-Dear universe. T-Bag, in particular, wonders why Don Self seems somewhat blasé about the imminent threat of his loved one(s) being turned into steak tartar. "My momma, his son, his wife," says T-Bag, gesturing around the table. "We don't even know who they got on you." Don Self suggests that maybe it's because it's none of T-Bag's business. But before we can turn this awkward exchange into a corporate-retreat team building exercise ("All right, tell everyone your name, specialty, and who The Company will kill should you fail to follow orders..."), Mahone reports that he's discovered the name of the outfit that supplies the keys they picked up off of Dead Stooge. The keys themselves are so complex -- each key has a computer chip that sends out a signal to open its lock -- that Mahone figures there's probably a database somewhere that lists where each of these magical locks are located. The keys costs $500 each; "You only spend that kind of money if you're protecting something of vital importance," Don Self observes. Or if you're a spendthrift. [Or a technology fetishist. Imagine getting turned on every time you open your front door! - Zach] Team Scylla is going to go with Don's theory, however, reasoning that if they find the locks that these keys open, they just might find Scylla.
Over to Ma Scofield's lavish South Florida home -- say what you will about The Company, people, but it looks like it pays very well -- where Ma Scofield is staring at a digital picture of her younger self and a small boy. Presumably, the boy in the picture is Lincoln; Michael is apparently hiding in the woman's belly. One of the bland henchmen these conspiratorial operations seem to have on hand in bulk comes in to tell her that someone's been poking around the security company's account looking for data about those high-tech keys. "And what information was compromised?" Ma Scofield asks; the bland henchman does not know. "And who was trying to access it?" Ma Scofield asks; again, the bland henchman is clueless. "Thank you for bringing that to my attention," Ma Scofield says flatly. "Good work." You know when you say it that way, it really doesn't sound that complimentary. Oh, there's one another thing bland henchman wants to bring to Ma Scofield's attention -- her son. "We already have safeguards in place to deal with Lincoln," Ma Scofield says. No, not that son -- your other son. The one with problem-solving skills who's happened to escape Company custody and is on his way to Miami. That son. Ma Scofield's face shifts from expressionless dispassion to expressionless concern. "If only they understood what it is I'm trying to do," she murmurs. Well, that's the problem with conspiracies, isn't it? They're so darn hard to decipher.
Having eluded the world's clumsiest assassin, Michael and Sara have bummed a ride in perhaps the one vehicle you'd least likely expect to find in a tale of international intrigue and betrayal -- a minivan. They've made it to a truck stop, presumably not too far east of Central Arizona. And since there's no caravan of soccer moms waiting to take them to Miami one minivan at a time, Sara suggests that it might be time for Michael to suck it up and call his brother. Michael needs a moment or two to glower.
In Miami, Mahone hangs up the phone and announces he's tracked down the location of the two key locks -- one is in Little Havana, while the other is down by the waterfront. Thank heavens this vital bit of detective work happened off-camera so we could continue to follow Michael and Sara's snail-like march through Arizona. T-Bag wants to split with Lincoln, but before he can finish that thought, Mahone tells him that he'll be teaming up with Don Self to go to Little Havana; Mahone and Linc will be the ones to investigate that waterfront location. You ever get the feeling that Don Self got picked last for a lot of kickball teams?
Linc's about to join the others in fanning out across the greater Miami-Dade area when his cell phone vibrates. It's Michael. "What's your problem?" Lincoln says by way of greeting. And a hearty hello to you, too, Sourpuss. Linc's a little perturbed that Michael gummed up his bargain with The Company by so thoughtlessly refusing to get his brain scrambled; Michael's miffed that Linc would ever do business with that mean ol' General. Aw... hug it out, bitches. Anyhow, there's a lot of Blue Steeling and mumbled warnings and general fraternal tension before Michael lets it slip that their mom is still alive. Anyhow, time to hang up, as a suspicious-looking trooper has just pulled up in a squad car. Catch you in Miami, Bro -- we must chat like this again sometime.
Sara and Michael decide its time to leave the splendor of the Arizona desert behind and ask a Dallas-bound trucker for a ride. The trucker seems reluctant to take them up on their offer. Well, perhaps Michael's good friend Benjamin Franklin can change his mind. In that case, hop on board -- Michael and Sara will be riding in the back of the truck; Ben Franklin will be joining the trucker.
Elsewhere, Mahone and Linc arrive at the waterfront-based locale for one of the keys' locks. And wouldn't you know it -- it's Ma Scofield's place. Weapon already drawn, Mahone notices that a clearly distracted Lincoln is not exactly in LINCOLN SMASH! mode -- more like LINCOLN WRESTLE WITH INDESCRIBABLE MELANCHOLY! Get it together, man, Mahone tells him -- whip out your KillStick and get ready to gun down the hordes of henchmen who are doubtlessly there to guard Scylla. But when they finally use the key to successfully unlock the door, they find a completely empty house. Guess the joke's on you, Mahone.
Well, "completely empty" is not entirely accurate. Someone's left behind a picture -- a print of the very same picture Ma Scofield was eyeballing early, so I'm gonna say that all signs and portents point to her being the one who left it behind for Linc to find. Which he does, with his customary cheerfulness and high spirits. "Someone must have known I was coming," Linc surmises. Well, you did kind of tip your hand last episode there, buddy. Mahone deduces that whoever left the picture was A) well-connected; B) working with the dearly departed henchman Linc and Co. offed recently; and C) in a position to have lots of snapshots of Linc within arm's reach. "There's only one person I can think of that fits that description," Mahone says. "Are you saying my mom is in Miami?" Link mumbles. Oh, look -- it thinks. Well, think about this, Genius: "Your mother could have Scylla," Mahone declares. You're seriously asking Linc to hold more than one thought in his head at a single time? Baby steps, Mahone. Baby steps.
We return from a commercial break to rejoin Memories of My Mother with Michael Scofield already in progress. Sitting in the trailer of the Dallas-bound 18-wheeler, Sara seems fascinated by Michael's tales of his mother's cookie-baking prowess and kickball-playing exploits and other non-Company agent tendencies and behaviors. Me, I'd like him to go back to wordlessly pouting. We do learn that Michael saw Mom's medical file -- add HIPPA violations to The Company's list of wrongdoings -- and that she had the same diagnosis as him, and that Company doctors also operated on her. So she was doubtlessly up and about immediately after brain surgery, too. Also, amid Michael's ceaselessly mewling, Sara leads him to the conclusion that General Von Baldy is only revealing the existence of Michael's mother now because he hopes to use it to his nefarious purposes.
Speaking of America's greatest bald super-villain outside of comic books, he's riding in a limousine with Oren, the company stooge who got his safe drilled into a while back. And the General just can't keep from singing Michael's praises: "Beyond question, he possess the most gifted mind of any man I've ever encountered." "Well, I'll try not to take that too personally," Oren cracks. Well, you should -- you're a horrible disappointment. Which is what the General would say if he weren't too busy nursing his scotch. "If we could have turned Michael Scofield," the General continues, "it would have been like having 30 more years of Christina." Oren has apparently heard enough -- he tells the General's driver to pull over where another sedan is waiting. "That's my ride," Oren says. Out here? In the middle of nowhere? Because this is a total setup? Indeed. And by time the General figures out what's going on, both the driver and Oren have hightailed it out of Dodge, leaving Von Baldy to struggle with his non-compliant seatbelt. The General manages to grab what appears to be the corkscrew from the limo's mini-bar and begins slashing away at the seatbelt to free himself. It says something about Prison Break's world view that a seatbelt is an instrument aimed at hastening your death, while a tool for providing you easy access to liver-destroying booze is in fact the pathway to redemption. While I muse over that, the General's limo is blown to kingdom come. So he's dead, right? Maybe... though on this show, I'd wait to see a body before I jumped to any conclusions. And even then, I'd just assume it was an evil twin or something.
That Little Havana locale for the other key turns out to be at a fairly downscale church -- The Cornerstone Church, to be exact, whose billboard declares it to be a "ministry of love... all are welcome." T-Bag is not particularly impressed: "This is not the place. I could pick that lock with my stump." Don Self reminds him of the tale of Harry Winston and how he donated the Hope Diamond to the Smithsonian Institute by way of registered mail. "It's the safest way to go," Don Self says. "After all, who would be looking for the Hope Diamond at the post office, right?" Guess that explains why I still get letters addressed to the lady who lives three houses down -- the mail carriers are too busy looking out for the Hope Diamond. It is determined that someone should investigate the innards of the Cornerstone Church further and that the someone in question should not be Don Self: "You walk in there, reeking that cop stink, you won't last a second," T-Bag observes. Don Self agrees -- guess that makes T-Bag it.
T-Bag heads into the church storefront, and I am disappointed to see that it is not filled to the rafters with gamblers and mission dolls singing Frank Loesser-penned songs about the joys of crap-shooting. There is, however, a door toward the back with a formidable lock on it. Unfortunately for T-Bag, there's also a fairly large, generically Latino gentleman inquiring as to just what the heck he's doing there. T-Bag introduces himself as a professor of anthropology from a local university -- yes, that's a much more believable cover than anything Don Self could have come up with -- and he was hoping to do some looking around as part of his studies into various "Caribbean religions." (Like the Church of the Sacred Limbo Stick or Our Lady of the Conch Fritter? C'mon, T-Bag... try harder.) Anyhow, T-Bag figures he could start by poking around where the church conducts its services... maybe by that door with the funky, high-tech lock. "That is our sanctuary," the Cuban Mandy Patinkin tells him. "Only the pure of soul may venture inside." Well, so much for that "all are welcome" jazz on the billboard, eh, Rev. Peligro? Cuban Mandy Patinkin asks to see T-Bag's hands; T-Bag complies by handing over the functional one. "Your soul is black, stained with the blood of the innocent," the reverend says. Well, he's a good judge of character -- you have to give him that. T-Bag feigns offense at these scurrilous accusations; the appearance of a pair of even larger generically Latino gentlemen persuades T-Bag to take his indignation outside.
When in Miami, be sure to visit the corner of Martin Luther King Boulevard and Route 441 -- site of exciting clandestine meetings like the one Linc is about to have in a trendy South Florida bistro, where they've apparently been expecting him if the "Reserved: L. Burrows" sign on the table is anything to go by. And before he can even order some appetizers -- maybe some fried mozzarella sticks or a nacho platter -- Ma Scofield pops into view. "You haven't changed a bit," she says. Well, presumably, he's balder. And more gargantuan. But everything else -- the face, the body language, the inability to suppress his primordial instinct to smash -- remains unchanged. Ma Scofield apologizes for the inscrutability of her coded message -- "At least now I know where Michael gets it from," Linc says (LINCOLN QUIP!) -- and gets down to business. Scylla is safe, which is all Linc needs to know. Then, as far as Linc is concerned, they've got nothing else to talk about. That's the only reason Linc came, Ma Scofield wonders -- no tearful catching-up, no reminiscing about the time she stiffed Michael with that build-it-yourself birdhouse kit? "I would have thought you would want to know the truth," Ma Scofield says. Lincoln is quite familiar with the truth, thank you very much -- Mom's an agent of the same Company that set him up for murder and tried to kill him and Michael for the past three seasons. "You can think it as much as you want," Ma Scofield protests. "I'm not a monster." Just a really terrible mother.
Lincoln has had quite enough of this family reunion and gets up to go; Ma Scofield grabs him by the arm, begging him to sit down. "Leaving you two boys was the hardest thing I ever did," Ma Scofield continues. Well, then she's to be congratulated for her determination and stick-to-itiveness, because she sure managed to pull it off. [Wait, did Edie Britt work for the Company, too? - Zach] Linc is still hung up on this whole My-Mom's-A-Company-Agent thing. "You think you know what The Company is, but you don't," Ma Scofield sneers. "It's a body that bends to the will of its head, and right now, it is blood-thirsty and war-hungry." Well, that's a hardly a ringing endorsement of General Von Baldy's stewardship. Ma Scofield has an ideal candidate in mind to replace the General -- herself. Linc is unimpressed: "If I get Scylla back to the General, he leaves me and Michael alone, and I get to spend time with my son in peace." There's another solution to Linc's problem, Ma Scofield points out -- do away with the General. "Once he was dealt with," she says, "no one would come after you." All she's asking for is two days to pull off her corporate coup d'etat. Linc nods his assent. And with that, Ma Scofield dashes off, not wanting to raise any more suspicion by running the risk of getting spotted with Linc. LINCOLN PONDER THE RAMIFICATIONS OF WHAT HE JUST AGREE TO!
Back to the Never-Ending Truck Ride, where Michael is still trying to Rube Goldberg his way out of danger with a setup that will pull down a crate to knock over a vending machine to push open the side of the trailer allowing him and Sara to leap to freedom. It will save everybody's time -- yours, mine, Michael's -- if I tell you that he succeeds. Remember to bend your knees when you jump, kids -- that asphalt's fairly unforgiving. They spring up from the side of the road and take off running; Definitely Not a Cop slams on the brakes, leaps out of the cab and -- gun already drawn -- begins his pursuit.
After a brief message from our sponsors, we return to Little Havana and its world-renowned storefront churches. Mahone, T-Bag and Don Self are all set to begin Operation: See If Scylla Is Inside -- you come up with a punchier name for the operation if you don't like it -- when three ornery-looking gents walk into the Cornerstone Church. Five-on-three may be fun when it comes to hockey fast-breaks and porno movies, but it's not-so hotso when you're staging a commando raid on what may or may not be the front for a global conspiracy. So Team Scylla decides to cool its heels.
"So Lincoln's mother is really the buyer?" Don Self asks. Man, it doesn't take this guy very long to process information, does it. "I hope he understands that if I need to take her out to get to Scylla..." Don Self begins -- and here I have visions of Don wining and dining Ma Scofield -- "I'm not going to hesitate to kill her." Oh. That's a lot less entertaining than what I was imagining. "Well, let's hope that it doesn't come to that," says Mahone to his disbelieving cohorts. "If we can get Scylla without killing Lincoln's mother, that's the preferable outcome." Spoilsport. Why can't we retrieve Scylla and kill somebody? Upon closer questioning from Don Self, however, Mahone concedes that if it's a matter of riddling Ma Scofield with bullets or losing out on the opportunity to retrieve Scylla, a-riddled her body will be.
That bit of business decided, the three ornery-looking gents from earlier can depart the Cornerstone Church just as quickly as they entered. It's go time -- Team Scylla charges in, with Don Self waving his novelty Homeland Security badge. "We're investigating a cruelty to animal charge," Mahone tells Cuban Mandy Patinkin, who professes ignorance as to what all this is about. "We're referring to ritual slaughters of chickens," Don Self says. "You know, that might be allowed where you come from, but here in America, that's no mas?" Wait... Homeland Security investigates chicken mutilations now? That... seems like a pretty shaky pretense for a raid. "This is preposterous," shouts Cuban Mandy Patinkin, agreeing with me. "This is because I am Caribbean?" Caribbean, huh? Don't care to get more specific than that? [Not without enraging a specific group of minorities. - Z] All right, then.
So here's the deal: Mahone and T-Bag are going to follow Cub... er... Caribbean Mandy Patinkin into the back while Don Self keeps his eye and gun trained on the pony-tailed henchman dude, who is probably also Caribbean, though he could be from Oceania or Middle Earth or one of those other vaguely identified parts of the globe that are unlikely to fire off angry letters to Fox for their depiction on Prison Break. It's all going swimmingly until Caribbean Mandy Patinkin attempts to pull a gun on the boys; of course, that gives T-Bag the opportunity to smote Senor Patinkin with his Prosthetic Limb of Whoop Ass. That threat put down, Mahone can open up the locked door -- the fancy-pants, high-tech key fits the lock perfectly. Inside the locked room, Mahone discovers a box full of security badges (one of which he pockets) and enough assault weapons to arm every man, woman, and child of Caribbea. Persuaded perhaps by the business end of T-Bag's handgun, Caribbean Mandy Patinkin confesses that there was a woman who once accompanied the deceased Scylla mule to this garden spot, but that's all he knows. So no word on whether she answers to Ma Scofield's description, though signs and portents point to yes.
Say, this mission is going well... unless you've remembered that there were a more henchmen at this church during T-Bag's earlier visit. With Don Self holding one at bay, that leaves others unaccounted for... Whoops, one just decided to account for himself, jabbing a cocked gun into T-Bag's neck and telling him to drop his weapon. He does, right into the waiting hands of Caribbean Mandy Patinkin. Now it's time for T-Bag and Mahone to find themselves on the wrong end of a revolver. "I told you not to come in here," Caribbean Mandy Patinkin says, as he gets ready to pull the trigger. Ah, but he didn't tell that to Don Self, who busts through a side door and shoots the henchman. A startled Caribbean Many Patinkin doesn't notice Mahone going for his other weapon -- he won't notice much of anything any more after Mahone pumps two shots into his chest. See Mahone? You can pull off a mission and kill people. The two are not mutually exclusive.
While Team Scylla flees from Mission of the Holy Chicken Blood, Michael and Sara continue their own flight -- over the fields and through the scrub to some sort of long-abandoned industrial plant they go. Unfortunately, their gun-toting pursuer has not lost their scent. And after Michael and Sara hole up in one of the abandoned warehouses, we notice that Sara seems to be favOreng her right shoulder -- must have injured it in the leap off the truck. Meanwhile, fresh-off-of-brain-surgery Michael is as spry and limber as ever; he hands Sara a lead pipe to fend off any gun-toting henchmen who happen by and scurries off to carry out the phase of his escape plan.
Hope that plan includes having that guy with the gun stumble upon Sara's hiding place, because that's what's about to happen. The henchman creeps through the abandoned warehouse's open window, inches his way ever so slowly to the room where Sara is hiding and... gets a two-by-four to the back of his head courtesy of Michael, who snuck up behind the guy. Things go from bad to worse for the henchman, who just happens to break his fall by smashing his head into a cinder block -- I don't think those are strawberry preserves leaking out of his skull. To add insult to injury, Michael riffles through his wallet and pulls out a slip of paper containing a series of numbers and letters. If you're playing the Prsion Break Lucky Numbers game at home, those numbers are: "7/31 I10R4AZMS" and "8/1 B2348ROCKWELL1630VS." Good luck to all players.
"The General should know by now not to mess with us," Michael says to the dying henchman. He should... but the henchmen isn't working for the General or for The Company. Michael demands to know who he is working for, then, but the henchman thoughtlessly picks that precise moment to die. How terribly rude.
Team Scylla returns to HQ with their shields instead of on them, when Linc drops the news -- they're to stand down for two days, while Ma Scofield eighty-sixes the General and turns The Company into a kinder, gentler worldwide conspiracy. The other lads are, to put it bluntly, skeptical. What of the cache of guns they uncovered, Linc? And how's about those fake IDs -- they're all dated for two days from now. Coincidence? Mahone and the others think not. "You can't be surprised that a woman who would abandon her kids would be less than truthful about her intentions right now," Don Self says. The hamster responsible for keeping the gears that power the inside of Lincoln's skull passes out from over-exhaustion; Linc decides, against Mahone's advice and his mother's warning, to pay Ma one last visit.
When he returns to the corner of MLK and Route 441, the bistro he met Mom in before is locked up tighter than an oil drum. Linc takes the photo of him and his mom out of his coat pocket. LINCOLN CONFLICTED!
You know who isn't conflicted? Lincoln's mother. Her bland henchman is reporting to her right now that not only has Lincoln returned to the restaurant but that Team Scylla's recent string of successful missions prove her son is a threat to her plans for global domination. Oh, and one other thing, Mom -- one of your snipers has Linc right in his crosshairs. Would you like him to take the shot? "Take it," Ma Scofield orders after not near enough deliberation as you'd like to see. And when that shot gets taken week, look for Sobell to be back to chronicle every last splattery detail.
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