Testimonials

And back at the Warehouse, Mahone has returned and presents Michael with the legend. Michael's like, oh, okay, this makes sense, these things represent microphones, and these things here are a line of JZ33 landmines buried about 7 feet away from the wall. "That must be what Linc was talking about," Michael says, and yeah, that's some cool decoding and all but we're way ahead of you there. He's incredibly calm for someone who doesn't know that Linc and Sucre have a hot, chatty, annoying, suddenly interesting explosives expert down there with them. Oh, but here's an amusing twist: they're manual override only; that is, any attempt to disarm the bombs themselves without overriding the switch will set off the alarms. Neat! Oh no wait. Not "neat," "crap."

Linc's phone isn't working so Mahone hurries over to Gate to pass this info along. Between the attractive young brunette loitering around his desk, and the sweaty, shady-looking guys running in and out of his office without saying a word or making eye contact with anyone, T-Bag's coworkers must think he's running a brothel out of his supply closet. Mahone gets to the wall just in time to stop Gretchen and cut the power to the override switch long enough for Sucre to move his foot. 20 seconds. And for 18 of those seconds, Sucre is whimpering and sobbing and almost certainly soiling himself. He finally gets the balls to step off of the bomb and hooray, crisis averted. They all stare at the huge concrete wall, and the CSI-cam takes us through the wall and shows us what's on the other side: it's the stylish yet powerful Bose Wave Radio! No, it's the star of the show, Scylla. But it does look like something you'd plug your iPod into.

So this, apparently, is what all the fuss is about.

Back at the Warehouse, Michael is apologizing to Linc for not being there for him earlier. Yeah, what kind of selfish asshole has a life-threatening neurological condition while his brother stands around in an underground minefield? Jerk. Anyway, Linc says he realized Gretchen could be useful in getting the next card, and she says she's on it. And iiiwwww, I bet she is. I bet I know exactly what she's on, and the image is seared into my brain forever.

Self shows up on his way to the airfield to ship Bellick back home. Sucks to be cargo, Brad. Not cool. The guys have a sort of impromptu wake, and nope, there's no "dun!" moment where it's not him in the coffin. It's him, and he's wearing a suit, and he looks that special kind of dead that people look after they've been embalmed and posed, so good job, makeup people and Wade Williams. Before they close the casket and send him off, Mahone throws his pilfered LAPD badge in with him. His mom will appreciate that, Sucre says adorably. Again, I am more verklempt than I expected. The van drives off and everyone disperses silently. We hear Sucre making the call to poor Mrs. Bellick.

"Hey, you guys remember when he used to torment us mercilessly with what could arguably be called psychological torture? Good times."

Mr. White tells convicted felon Theodore Bagwell community service volunteer Cole Pfeiffer that he did a great job with the presentation, and hey, that's admirable work, being around all those criminals. "We're all the same," T-Bag says, barely suppressing a giggle. Mr. White hands over Booberella's application as requested, and when he leaves, T-Bag calls the number listed for her previous employer. And surprise, when he calls "Mr. Smitty," it's Agent Self who answers. Dun!

Michael has called a meeting of what's left of the Superfriends, and goes over everything he's learned about the security system. Meanwhile, Sara is curled up into a little ball of stress, having just spoken to the neurologist. She is obviously in tears throughout Michael's debriefing. (Huh huh. Debriefing.) The good news is that in order to avoid having any visual evidence of its existence, Scylla is kept in a room with no cameras. The bad news is that there are sensors that will detect any breathing human weighing more than two pounds. So now all we have to do is find a deep-sea diving fetus capable of independent thought and movement! (To be fair, fetuses don't breathe air, so maybe that's an advantage here.) And also they have to find a way through the wall in the first place, which is fortified with steel fibers. So, a deep-sea diving fetus ghost then. "It's complicated," Michael understates hilariously.

"Everything's fine! This is my 'Everything's Fine' Face!"

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Posted in Prison Break by Loula at 7:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)
Last Comment: baymenxpac on Nov 17, 2008 01:36 PM.