Prison Break: Shock and Ewww

I’m right there with you, dude.

Oh yeah. They went there.

That box was a red herring of the “it can’t possibly be that! It’s way too obvious! Oh wait, yeah, that’s exactly what it is.” variety. Linc can’t tell Michael and spends the entire episode looking like he’s about to puke. Susan confuses and annoys me, Mahone finds something to take the edge off, and Michael pulls off one of his totally awesome sneaky plans. And Haywire shows up! And did I mention the part where a character that was just getting interesting is unceremoniously dispatched offscreen? You deserved better, Dr. Tancredi, but hey, maybe you can hook up with Kellerman in the afterlife. 3.04 Good Fences. Linc is on his daily taxi ride to Sona, and he is unnerved. God dammit, you guys. He keeps flashing back to the whole “what’s in the box?” moment from last week, and god dammit. Dammit!

Michael is staring out his favorite window. Whistler inquires about their progress re: getting the hell out of there. Michael mentions that the supposedly electric fence on the perimeter isn’t live, and Whistler’s all, yeah, but the dozens of guys with machine guns sure are, and they’ll get you before you’re halfway there. Michael brushes him off, like, hey, I’m the prison breaker, you’re the prison breakee, got it? Whistler brings up his bird book – he’s supposed to be figuring out where he brought the naturalist the bad guys are looking for, and sooner or later they’re going to ask about it. He doesn’t want to have to tell them he’s not making any progress on account of Lincoln Burrows took it. He’s not threatening, they’re on the same team, he just knows that unless they play along, they’re going to come after all of them. He and Michael have a Churchill quote-off, and Michael seems to win with ” I never worry about action. Only inaction.” Something tells me you’re going to be revising that opinion relatively soon, you poor oblivious bastard.

Linc arrives at the prison with more flashbacks to the goddamn box. He sort of stumbles up to the fence, and Michael can tell right away something’s wrong. Linc mutters that all this stuff is just starting to get to him, that’s all. Michael says the situation could change very soon, but he needs Linc to reach out to the gravedigger, and he hands him a note with instructions on what to say. Linc’s face tries to say “woohoo, imminent breakout,” but it actually says “I’m going to throw up everything I’ve ever eaten.” Michael: “Linc, what are you not telling me?” Crap! Crap crap crap. Linc is just so sorry about all the people that have been hurt because of him. He’s so sorry. Michael insists they’re the ones who did this, not him. Just get to the gravedigger; they’re running out of time.

“Nope, absolutely no head- or box-related news to report today.”

Linc shuffles off and just collapses into a flashback for which I will never, ever, ever forgive this show, ever. In the box was indeed a head, and it was indeed Sara’s. I won’t even get into how many levels of wrong this is, because despite my fangirl fury I do have actual nonfictional life events to think about, but this particular turn of events has upset me more than any unnecessary fictional demise since Sheriff Lamb. Mother. Fucker. I mean, just, so many kinds of wrong, on so many levels. They could at the very least have let her get a piece of hot escaped con ass first! You hear me, show? I will never forgive you. I will watch you, and I will write about you, and I might even enjoy you, but I will never forgive you.

I was going to put a screencap here but it’s way, way too disturbing.

Christ. Poor Linc. He can’t tell Michael, he needs him too much to have him fall apart a couple of days before they kill LJ too. But he just breaks down sobbing with guilt and grief and it’s heartbreaking and, as I might have mentioned, unforgivable.

Okay. So Linc goes to meet Susan, and before he can say anything she says “I’m just a soldier in this war, Linc, just like you.” She looks more annoyed than remorseful as she continues about how she did not want to do that – can he even understand the mechanics of what she had to do to that woman? It’s horrible! Well boo freaking hoo, Snoozin. She says if they’re done playing games LJ will be fine, otherwise, as distasteful as it might be to start mailing pieces of him to Linc, she’ll do it. I guess we’re meant to see that she’s conflicted or something, but really she just looks like she’s wondering who farted. Maybe they have an army of Sara-alikes like the one from the morgue? Maybe it’s her head in the box? I know, I know. But they love fakeouts on this show, right? Right? Sigh.

“You smell that?”

Snoozin continues: “the past few days have been hard for both of us, what with your friend’s head winding up in a box and my having put it there and all.” She actually, literally offers to talk about it, since she knows his pain. Oh for heaven’s sake. Linc can’t even muster up any indignation or annoyance, he just flatly says that all he wants is to get his kid back, and Michael’s got a plan. She says to get it done, oh, and by the way, she’s gonna need the real copy of that bird book. He obediently digs it out of one of his very many pockets. “Just soldiers,” she says again. Inexplicably, Linc fails to grab her by the hair and smash her face into the railing over and over, like Jon Lovitz did to Andy Dick.

Michael and Tracy McGrady are in the yard shooting hoops, by which I mean, T-Mac is throwing a ball at that drawing of a basketball goal on the wall. T-Mac says he was best in his school. “All girls?” Michael retorts, which, ha. Poor oblivious Michael. Also, T-Mac is freaking adorable. Michael bets him $20 he can’t make the shot again, and wins, but hey, in lieu of payment Michael will take that cross around his neck. “But my dad gave me this, and besides, it’s not even real gold.” Aw. That’s exactly why he needs it, he says. It’s just a loan. T-Mac is about to hand it over but holds back: “This time I want to know why.”

Meanwhile, Lechero is chilling in the penthouse with his pals and his HDTV fútbol match and his prostitute. Sister Mary Puta tries to calm him down about the money he thinks he’s losing when zzzt! The electricity buzzes out. According to my closed captioning, he reacts by saying “motherless bitch,” which, I don’t know what that means, but it’s my new favorite exclamation of annoyance.

Speaking of motherless bitches, Mahone ain’t lookin so good. He stares at his reflection like, “damn, just a few days ago I was totally rockin that 3 piece suit and now I look like hell, if hell were sweaty and twitchy and crazy.” In the mirror a bloody hand reaches up and touches him on the shoulder, but when he turns around there’s no one there. He’s antsily checking his cell for disembodied hands when Michael scares him even more by calling his name. Michael looks at him like he’s thinking that same thing about the 3-piece suit, but hurriedly tells Mahone he’s in on any secret escape plans. Bellick is still lurking around, poking his head through curtains and eavesdropping like freaking Mrs. Kravitz. Michael gives poor crazy Mahone a very important mission: He needs a black felt-tip pen. Michael will explain it to him later, right now he just needs the pen, and also, he needs Mahone to chill the fuck out, because he’s attracting attention. Mahone’s like “oh really, quit the shaking and sweating and hallucinations and the general physiological discontinuation syndrome I’m in the middle of? Good call, genius, I hadn’t thought of that.”

Shut up and kiss me, you fool!”

Lechero and some of his crew find the breaker box, but the switch is turned on like it’s supposed to be and there’s no explanation for the blackout. “Fix it!” he yells at no one in particular.

Bellick sneaks up on Mahone: “Hey Al!” Hoo boy, you got to have some balls to call that guy “Al” right now, Mrs. Kravitz. Ole Brad just wanted to see how he was holding up. “Just dandy!” Mahone replies with another one of those line readings that make me want to steal at least 75% of Everybody Loves Raymond‘s Emmys and hand them over to William Fichtner. Bellick confides that he’s having a rough time himself, which doesn’t seem fair seeing as how they’re the only lawmen there in Taco Hell. Ha! I forget about Bellick’s talent for tasteless and hilarious nicknames. Mahone starts to walk away but Bellick’s all “wait! We were a team! I was your dog!” “I’m busy, Brad,” replies Mahone emphatically. Bellick’s all “you and Scofield got something going on, right? I can help!” Mahone asks if he has a black felt tip pen. Nope? Then you can’t help.

Sofia tells Whistler through the fence that Linc told her everything about Michael and the escape. He says some very powerful people want him out of there. He doesn’t know why, something to do with a charter he did in Seattle. All he knows is that the brothers and the Company all want the same thing they do, which is to get him out of that (taco) hellhole. He tells her to just chill out but she says she’s helping, dammit, end of story. He gives her an assignment: dig up some dirt on Linc and Michael.

Speaking of Michael, we see him snag a roll of duct tape and hide it under his incredibly sweaty shirt. Mahone runs up with a pen, but it’s not black felt tip like Michael specified. He sends Mahone off to keep trying, but a reflection in a bucket of water whispers “he’s playing you!” And hey, it’s our old dead pal Haywire! Nice to see your creepy muddy reflection, you crazy fucker. Mahone, understandably, is not as delighted. “Do not trust him!” Hallucinatory Dead Haywire whispers, as Mahone catches glimpses of him, still wearing that stripey shirt he stole off that laundry line last season and wore all the way up till his high-velocity demise. Aw.

Who wants to play Where’s Weirdo?!!!

Lechero asks T-Bag about his pal the American. He’s an engineer, right? T-Bag says he’s no amigo, and tries to warn Lechero not to get involved with the likes of him. Lechero interrupts: is he or is he not an engineer? T-Bag: “Well, yeah, but…” Lechero storms out and finds Michael in his cell. He asks him what he knows about the electricity situation. Michael’s all “I just know we don’t have any, and also, that I’m totally not hiding anything behind my back right now.” Lechero holds up the phone from last week, you know, the one that essentially got Sara’s head lopped off for no good reason, and tells him it’s their link to the outside world. No electricity, phone dies; phone dies, they die. Can he fix it like he fixed the water? Michael says it’s not that simple – the water lines were inside the prison, but the electricity probably runs underground near the wall, in No Man’s Land. Seeing as how prisoners who try to make it out that far tend to end up full of holes, he’s thinking he probably can’t fix it. Lechero’s all “oh yes you will!” Michael says nothing but his brain rubs its hands together and says “Eggggcellent.” Lechero says if Michael fixes the electricity he can give him something nice – maybe a feather pillow? A TV? A threadbare wifebeater? Okay, that last one was mine, but he totally needs one. Michael says he’ll do it for the low low price of that one cell over there, “the first one to get sunlight in the morning.” It’s also the one he’s been staring out of for days – the one that looks out onto the gravedigger – but he doesn’t mention that part.

Sucre is making himself a fake passport when Linc walks in from a really, really crappy day. Sucre says they’re hiring migrant workers in Colombia and he’s gonna go chill with Juan Valdez for awhile picking coffee beans. Linc needs his help before he goes – just a translator for a couple of hours. Sucre says nope, he has to make that bus so he can get to pickin, send some money to his kid. He wants to be a dad no matter what. Linc should understand that. Before Linc can hulk out on him there’s a knock at the door. It’s Sofia, saying that James confirmed everything Linc said about the escape, and she wants to help. Linc: “Your Spanish as good as your English?”

Lechero calls “The Colonel,” who can get Michael close enough to fix the electricity. I apologize in advance for any fried chicken jokes. Lechero’s already plenty annoyed when his teeny tiny little stack of bills comes in from the outside and he explodes at the delivery boy. Mahone is pestering a graffiti artist for a pen when alarms go off in the yard warning everybody to stay away from the doors. Michael and Lechero make their way toward the two heavily armed gentlemen standing on either side of the exit. Imaginary Zombie Haywire whispers to Mahone that Michael’s going to leave him there.

The Colonel, who does have a little goatee, but not a charming grandfatherly white goatee like the real Colonel, is waiting for Lechero and Michael on the other side. Michael says he can’t be certain until he starts digging, but he’s pretty sure he can get the electricity back on. The Colonel stresses that Michael will be shot in the head if he so much as looks at the fence, or at The Colonel’s Secret Recipe of 11 Herbs and Spices. Also, Lechero’s ass is on the line here along with Michael’s. Bellick is lurking again, catching Michael just as he comes back into the yard, all “I scratch your back and eventually you’ll scratch mine, right? By which I mean, I know what you and Mahone are up to and I’ll totally tell on you if you don’t count me in.” Oh, déjà vu, eh Michael?

Linc and Sofia approach the gravedigger from earlier, only instead of leaning over the broken body of an unclaimed gladiator he’s leaning over the engine of a 60s muscle car. Linc feigns interest and Sofia translates. Gravedigger’s all “Say, haven’t we met?” and she’s all “Oh heavens no, certainly not at any prisons,” but Gravedigger knows they’re not there to talk about cars.

Michael is trying to get rid of Bellick, telling him he’s just fixing the electricity. He also still calls him “Boss” which makes me laugh. Bellick rattles off what he knows, which is that the company wants him to get Whistler out of there. Michael’s all “what company? What do they want with Whistler? I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about!” Bellick is tenacious, saying that while he doesn’t know all the details he knows he’s up to something. Michael’s like, yup, I’m up to fixing the electricity, Boss, now help me dig. They shovel for awhile before Michael hits something.

“Seriously, who knew I would end up being this hot?”

Whistler’s managed to get himself on the digging team, and mutters that he assumes they’re not just playing electrician. Michael tells him they’re exactly where they need to be. Bellick’s watching Michael fiddle around with the wires he’s uncovered, and Whistler wonders why he’s even there. “He knows something’s up,” says Michael. Let’s just say Michael has a bit of a reputation. “From Fox River?” Whistler asks. Michael makes his “Whatchoo talkin bout, Whistler?” face, but Whistler says he can keep a secret if it gets him out. Bellick on the other hand cannot be trusted. Well, Bellick’s not in on this, but Mahone is, or rather, he thinks he is. So Hallucinatory Dead Haywire was right after all? I’ll be damned. Michael says Mahone will self-destruct pretty soon without his meds so he’s probably not worth worrying about. He just needs to be placated a bit.

And what better way to placate oneself than with recreational pharmaceuticals? One thing Taco Hell and the US have in common is that in some circles heroin is easier to get than prescription meds. Mahone certainly needs one or the other, so he hovers around the druggies long enough to get their attention. One of them, the guy who dropped off Lechero’s money earlier, wonders if he needs a hookup. Mahone stutters that he was taking this prescription on the outside…the dealer interrupts him to say it’s not a pharmacy, but this little baggie of what Mahone recognizes as heroin is a lot better than whatever he was getting out there. Mahone doesn’t have any money, but the guy helpfully suggests some unsavory ways for him to make some. Mahone barks at him and the guy backs off. Just helping you get well, my friend. Well, at least in the US you don’t have to submit to sodomy to get your meds. Not literally, anyway.

Bellick pokes his head into the penthouse and hurriedly tells Lechero that he doesn’t know exactly what he’s up to, but Scofield’s taking him for a ride. He heard him talking about escape, but Lechero’s like, well, if that’s true, what are you doing here instead of escaping out there with him? Bellick blurts out that he gave him a shovel too once upon a time, when he worked at the prison Michael broke out of. Lechero says there’s nothing he can do – the guards are watching him. Bellick says yeah, that’s what I thought until he hogtied me and broke out. Oh right. Ha. Good times. Michael buried something in that junction box, he saw it. Lechero should check for himself.

“Please, for the love of god, can someone get me some new pants?”

Sammy grabs Michael in the yard and yanks him in to the penthouse, where Lechero grabs him by the neck and calmly explains that he hears Michael’s trying to screw him over. Michael chokes that he’s just doing what he’s told, and Lechero’s like, oh, well in that case, let’s go out there and see what you buried. The “Tense Moment!” music plays as Michael opens up the box to reveal…duct tape. He fixed the frayed wires; it’s why the power was so inconsistent. Lechero’s not quite done being suspicious, so he follows Michael down to turn the main switch back on. We see T-Mac’s cross wedged into the breaker box, and we get a flashback from earlier – as agreed, Michael took T-Mac down to show him what he was doing with his cross. It’s the perfect size and it’s not real gold so it won’t conduct electricity. Keep the circuit open? No power, even when the main switch is on. You sneaky bastard! So the power won’t come on until he removes the cross. Lechero and his cronies are hovering over Michael, who flips the switch up, and nothing. He punches the breaker box in frustration, saying it’s a mistake, it should be working. Lechero says the only mistake was trusting Michael, and Sammy delivers a big ole punch to the face. This gives Michael the opportunity to fall to the ground and pull himself back up on the exact right part of the wall. He dislodges the cross, and ta da! The lights come on. “Transformer delay,” says Michael. “It’s an old prison. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to move into my new cell.” Nice. Welcome back, Steely Badass Engineer Michael. I hope we get a few episodes of you before we have to see Guilt-Ridden Grief-Stricken Complete Fucking Basketcase Michael. Motherless bitch!

T-Bag is helping the dealer from earlier sort through his plastic bags of various substances. He tells T-Bag when Lechero’s in a better mood he’ll put in a good word for him, help him get up the ladder. T-Bag jovially declines, saying he was always taught that God helps those who help themselves, at which point he sneaks up and shoves a large plastic bag over the dealer’s face. Once he’s unconscious, T-Bag shoots him full of heroin and tells him to “vaya con Dios.” Well, it has been like 4-5 days since he killed that hooker, so he’s overdue.

T-Bag isn’t handicapped, he’s handicapable!

Linc tells Susan the gravedigger wants $15k, and she says she’ll get it. “How you holding up?” she inquires. Huh? What the hell is her deal, seriously? Linc says he just wants this over. He starts out the door to meet her but Sofia wants to come along. She gets all huffy when he tells her to stay, asking what kind of man he is, telling her what to do. He explodes, clarifying that he’s the kind of man who just got his brother’s girlfriend’s head chopped off and delivered to him by the same people who have his kid. So yes, he realizes there are other people involved, which is exactly why she needs to stay here with Sucre, who is hearing this for the first time as well. “Oh Linc. I’m sorry.” He says, unhelpfully. “You still here?” Linc snits before he leaves the two of them alone to feel sheepish.

Sammy fetches a flustered T-Bag and drags him up to Lechero’s. “You know anything about this?” Lechero growls, indicating the rather dead dealer. Teodoro does his “aw shucks, I’m just a southern gal” routine, feigning ignorance. Lechero falls for it, because it really is quite good, and hey, looks like we have a job opening!

Michael, who also calls Tracy McGrady “McGrady,” gives back his cross as promised and thanks him for his help. “You’re a real smart guy,” T-Mac grins. “What the hell you doing in prison?” Mahone trudges up to Michael and presents him with a pen. Michael declares that it’s perfect, exactly what he needed. He asks where he got it, and he doesn’t answer, but Mahone’s reaction definitely suggests he did something icky for it. Now they just wait, Michael says. He’ll keep him posted. “You know what you need to do,” urges Imaginary Zombie Haywire.

Whistler is staring out of Michael’s new window, wondering why Michael would want to fix the electricity, especially considering that he’s made the electric fence live again. Michael just says it’s in their best interest to have that fence as electric as possible, and now they just need Linc to come through with the gravedigger.

And he’s trying, but the gravedigger tells him and Susan he wants more money. Linc finally, finally hulks out and grabs the guy. “You said fifteen thousand!” He growls. Linc smash! Susan says to calm down. “If it’s money you want…” she reaches into her stylish black satchel and pulls out a gun, with which she proceeds to shoot his ear off. Linc is frantic: “We need him!” but Susan says he’ll just keep asking for money and then call the cops. She pulls the trigger again, and all I can think of is Kellerman, when he bought his Presidential assassination rifle from that guy’s trunk and then unceremoniously dispatched him in a similar but much awesomer fashion. Good times.

Back at Taco Hell, Michael is folding up his blanket, which I can’t imagine gets much use out there in Dallas. I mean Panama. Imaginary Zombie Haywire tells Mahone he’s packing up to go, see? Kill him! He’s interrupted by Actual Living T-Bag: “Good news, Agent Mahone!” Due to an unfortunate death in the family, Teodoro has been promoted to Manager in charge of Retail Distribution. That’ll look good on his resume next to “Proficient in Word, Excel, kiddie rape, and various methods of remorseless homicide for personal gain and/or amusement.” T-Bag makes me laugh out loud, telling Mahone that he ain’t his momma, “but let’s just say you’ve looked betta.” His plastic hand leaves a baggie and a syringe for Mahone, “no strings attached.” Imaginary Zombie Haywire pops up and hisses for Mahone to get his head straight. Mahone takes a serious look at Teodoro’s present.

“Hmm. Terrifying hallucinations or blissful opiate high? Heroin it is!”

Sammy leads a frightened Bellick into Lechero’s lair, where they’re watching the World Cup. Is that in June? Cause if this show is going to be killing off characters I had finally started caring about after a whole season of development, I’m going to start nitpicking it. I will be the continuity police from here on out, you got that, Prison Break? Lechero calmly looks up to tell Bellick the only thing he hates more than a rat is a rat with bad information. Ruh-roh. Bellick tries to plead his case but Sammy shoves him headfirst onto the coffee table. Teodoro dutifully brings in a pitcher of incredibly hot coffee. Lechero reminds Bellick of his words earlier: “If I’m lyin I’m dyin.” “Just be thankful I don’t hold you to that,” Lechero says as he pours a sizzling cup of coffee onto Bellick’s back. Mmm, good to the last drop!

Mahone is off hiding somewhere, looking much calmer. Sure enough, there in front of him is a spoon, a syringe, and several burnt matches. He stares at his hand like a 16-year-old who just tried his first bong hit. “Wow,” he whispers to himself, hilariously.

Michael moves all of his earthly belongings into his new cell. Crazy Junkhead Mahone stumbles in behind him with the pen. “You left this in your old cell,” he slurs, grinning. Michael thanks him warily. “It’s funny you could forget something as important as this is,” says Strung Out Mahone, in a way that means “It’s not very funny at all.” To prove this unspoken point, he produces a rather large knife and sticks it into the wall right next to Michael’s pretty head. He reminds Michael that he’s only alive because of him, which, yeah, good point, score 1 for the junkie. Michael should remember that next time he sends him on a wild goose chase. Have I mentioned how totally awesome William Fichtner is? Because he’s doing a really good job with the “I am so high I can barely see straight” act. MVP this week! He will not be manipulated like Sucre or Tweener or Haywire. He’s not an errand boy. He’s leaving with him when he goes, or Michael gets a large piece of metal to the brain.

Do you have any idea how often I will make this face once you tell me about Sara?”

Linc waits for Michael at the fence, and the first thing Michael says is “How’s LJ? How’s Sara?” Linc admirably holds it together enough to lie that he was told they’re fine. Before Michael can ask again what’s wrong, Linc tells him that the gravedigger is “gone” but they went to his supervisor, the one who approves all the hires for that job. Turns out he could use a little cash. And okay, this is pretty cool. After about five seconds my awesome suspicions are confirmed as Michael runs into the yard to find the dead dealer being drug out by the brand new gravedigger, a grinning Fernando Sucre. Yay, I knew they’d find something for him to do. And Susan’s plan worked out better than Michael’s in the end. Everybody’s happy! Oh, except for, you know. Everybody.

Whistler gets a package in the mail, and really? Mail? No guards, but mail? Anyway, it’s his bird book, with the simple note “You’re running out of time.”

Michael watches Sucre digging. Whistler comes up and realizes “that’s how we’re getting out of here.” “With a little help from an old friend,” Michael confirms. And yeah, okay, this is cool: The spray they were using earlier? That we thought was gasoline until they didn’t burn the bodies? Turns out it’s a chemical used to cover up the smell of decomposition, and, “when heated to a certain temperature…” Sucre surreptitiously begins to spray the fence. “…It eats through steel,” Michael finishes, with the shit-eating grin of a man whose brilliant plan is totally working, and who is blissfully unaware that he will never consummate his relationship with his girlfriend on account of her head is no longer in the same room as her body and it’s no fun that way. Sigh! A thousand times sigh.

Let’s hear it for Sara, who, even if you didn’t especially like her, you have to admit, she got the shit end of the stick over and over again, and I really wanted her to get the other end at least once. RIP, Dr. Tancredi. Until sweeps, when it is revealed that it was totally a fake Sara they killed! Dun! What? It could happen.

Motherless bitch!