Post by forumfish on May 22, 2009 22:53:57 GMT -5
Author: CelleDuSoleil
Ep. 301
Mahone: Yes, bravo, exquisitely ironic and all that you’ve gotta get me outta here.
Michael: Not going to happen, father-killer.
Lechero: Gentlemen, Sona is a place of peace and harmony and quiet contemplation of what will happen to you if you persist in HARSHING MY ZEN--oooohm, happy place--where was I? A sí: witout te rules we are but uncout savages so we have a law -- our law -- TE LAW OF TE VOODOO CLAW O’ DOOM.
Mahone: Gosh.
Michael: I can honestly say that that’s the second creepiest severed appendage I’ve ever seen.
Lechero: You tink you are special, Mr. Scofield? Successfully engineerin’ an elaborate escape plan to free your broter and fleein’ to Panama ALL MEANS NOTIN’ HERE! I run tis place. I am te ONLY SPECIAL O-- ooohhm. I’m warnin’ you once: do not make waves.
Michael: As still as a mountain lake, I assure you.
Linc: This is so wrong, but I’m totally gonna get you outta here. They said you could be transferred tomorrow and--
Michael: That’s great but I’m not hearing the Magic S-word.
Linc: I’ve misplaced her, but I’m totally gonna find her.
Michael: Please do, otherwise, I’m gonna misplace my other less important s-word.
Pike: Mr. Scofield, we’d like to be the exclusive sponsor of Your Next Escape.
Michael: Not interested.
Lechero: Tsk, tsk, te Great Michael Scofield tieving. Who would have tunk it? Fight to te deat -- tat’s te rule.
Michael: Not necessary.
Mahone: Go for the kneecaps.
Michael: Not-- wait, why?
Mahone: I need you alive. To get outta here. Takes a man outta commission ... the kneecap kick. Trust me.
Michael: Not going to-- *THWACK!*
Lechero: We are quite entertained, Mr. Scofield, but tis little story requires closure.
Michael: No.
Mahone: *KUR-SNAP!* The end: rule broken, offender punished. Without the rules we are but uncouth savages, sí? Good, now we can all go to our respective happily ever after places.
Linc: You’ve gotta stay in here and get some guy out in a week. They found both our Magic Words before I could.
Michael: N-- ooohmmm.
Ep. 302
Michael: James Whistler? This is the part where 1) I inform you that They “sent” me to break you out, 2) you protest your ignorance of what They want with you whilst I 3) briefly grapple with the moral dilemma of freeing yet another monster before resolutely ignoring it. 4) A seemingly insurmountable problem will arise.
Whistler: But I don’t know what They want. Didn’t They tell you?
Michael: Of course you don’t. No. And ...?
Whistler: Well, you better have one seriously uber crowd-control mechanism because the moment I go up top, I’ll aggro everything in sight.
Michael: brb
Susan B: Let’s say, for efficiency’s sake, that you’ve threatened me, I’ve patronized you and go straight to how the breakout we ordered is going.
Linc: Let’s say, for accuracy’s sake, that I’ve threatened not so much you as all those you hold dear and a week is not enough time.
Susan B: Duly noted. A week is all you have. I can already tell that these progress report meetings are going to be so dynamically synergistic.
Whistler: *Meep*
Mahone: Sorry, pal, nothing personal, but the wiki on you says you drop a super-rare get-out-of-jail-free card.
Michael: You don’t want to do this, Alex. I’ll help you in anyway I can, just let him go.
Mahone: Really? Gee, thanks, Michael, but as blindingly glowy as your holy inner fire halo is, I distinctly recall that it doesn’t illuminate us wretched father-killing sinners.
Michael: Let me hel--
Whistler: *Flee!*
Mahone: *Pursue!*
Lechero’s Thugs: *Loiter!*
Linc/Sofia: What do you people want with us? Why won’t you just leave us alone?!
Michael: Lechero, please li--
Lechero: How dare you enter Te Crucible of Enlightenment witout bein’ summoned?
Michael: But I can hel--
Lechero: Out wit you!
Michael: McSucre, I need you to get me some booze.
McGrady: Party? Now?
Michael: Oh, yeah, it’s going to be a real blowout.
Mahone: *Misjudgement!*
Michael: *HOLY NOVA!*
Agua: *Gush!*
Lechero: Okay, yes, you can be of help. Te Australian is free of his Curse o’ Instant Deat.
Mahone: *Whimper*
Whistler: Thanks, mate. 5)?
Michael: Regen. afk
Ep. 303
Linc: My brother wants to talk to Sara.
Susan B: That’s so romantic it would set my heart girlishly aflutter if I had one.
Linc: He needs to know she’s alive before he can get his head back in the game which, correct me if I’m wrong, is where you need it.
Susan B: But that would ruin the suspense.
Linc: Do you see this face I’m makin’ -- this is not my cowed face.
Susan B: Lemme guess: it’s your constipated mule face.
Linc: Yeah. And I’m only half as stubborn as Michael is.
Susan B: And where will he even find a phone inside Sona?
McGrady: No phones, amigo. Well, one, but--
Michael: Of course he does.
T-Bag: Lemme think ‘bout itno.
Michael: It’s time for some redemption on your part, and it’s either my way or the local religion.
T-Bag: You wou’n’t--
Michael: Bless you, Theodore.
Whistler: Let’s talk fish.
Mahone: If you’re in category “Nearest and Dearest”, you’ll have an interesting and, possibly, short life. If not, it’ll be much more interesting and, you’ll wish, much much shorter.
Whistler: That’s not--
Mahone: Yes it is. Mind the waltzing wombats on your way out.
T-Bag: *Scurry!*
Michael: *Whimper*
Linc: LINCOLN ACTION SQUAD: ENGAGE!
Whistler: Let’s bond.
Michael: Let’s not.
The Box: .
Linc: *Whi--*
Ep. 304
Linc: ... nothing! Everyone’s fine: LJ’s fine and I’m fine. Sara’s fine and you’re fine! Right? And planning! See? FINE!
Michael: Yeah, I need you to get to the gravedigg--
Linc: *Whimper*
Michael: --er. Linc?
Linc: Fine! On it. Anything you want!
Whistler: “However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results.”
Michael: “A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.”
Whistler: “You can always count on Americans to do the right thing - after they’ve tried everything else.”
Michael: “A joke is a very serious thing.”
Lechero: Scofield’s an engineer, sì?
T-Bag: Sì, patròn, an en-gihn-ne’er of lahs an’ dupe-plih-cih-ty.
Lechero: Good, ten he should have no problem wit te electricity.
Michael: Weeelllll, this place is old: the insulation is frayed and the wire is corroded and the vital parts are in a place where I’ll get shot in the head if I go. Other than that, it’s do-able. For that cell in the corner.
Lechero: Tat’s all?
Michael: I like to feel the sunlight in the morning before it gets really sweltering. Plus, with the decor -- the bearded man with the giant cross around his neck, some sort of devil and the shackled figure with dark, shoulder-length hair engulfed in flames of agony -- it feels like home.
Whistler: So Bellick doesn’t know enough to be a problem, but Mahone?
Michael: He’ll self-desctruct all by himself. Don’t worry about it.
Whistler: Things usually neatly take care of themselves in your great experience?
Mahone: You forgot your mission-critical felt-tip black pen.
Michael: Thank you, Alex.
Mahone: You’re most welcome. *Thwack!* In the immortal words of Winston Churchill: “When you have to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite.” Don’t make me be polite again, glow-worm.
Michael: Is the gravedigger on board?
Linc: There was a minor hitch but everything’s fine, now. You?
Michael: Fine.
Linc: Fine!
I’m afraid the finger-puppets are being horribly unreasonable for the time being -- something about “not going back” until some sort of “narrative debt” has been “paid off”.
Ep. 305
Mahone: As a connoisseur of your past oeuvres, it’s such an honor to see another ScoPlan in action. Are we escaping yet?
Michael: Just leave me alone and let me think.
Mahone: Anti-social behavior. Check.
New Guy: I think I know that guy.
Mahone: Inconveniently curious outsider. Check.
Michael: ... a microwave and transmitter -- it’s so simple!
Whistler: Improvised science project?
Mahone: Check.
Sucre: Bribe?
Linc: Boobs!
Guard: *BANG!*
Mahone: Assorted distractions. Check.
Michael: *Meltdown*
Mahone: Check.
New Guy: I remember you.
Whistler: No, you don’t.
Michael & Mahone: ...
Whistler: What a space cadet! Ha. Ha.
Mahone: ... and coffee.
Michael: Check.
Mahone: Really?
Michael: You are aware that I’m just making this up as I go along, right?
Ep. 306
Michael: So we’ve got an internal diversion, an external diversion, an exit point and a clear path. All we need now is--
Mahone: More spray on the fence?
Whistler: More dead body?
Michael: More photos, Linc?
Linc: Can’t we just trust Them?
Tyge: *Croak*
Whistler: I’m innocent!
Lechero: And I am te product of te general injustice of te human condition. What is your point?
Whistler: That, as much as I respect your charming local laws and customs, it’s not like I’m going anywhere so why don’t I just run along and--
Lechero: Sit.
Michael: Check, Alex?
Mahone: Hey, that wasn’t me -- I’m strictly unpremeditated nowadays. Also, I was elsewhere, genius.
Michael: We’re not going anywhere without Whistler.
Mahone: “We”?
Michael: As in the “we” who have an escape plan beyond the fence, genius. What do “you” have?
Sullins: Aaaaaalex.
Mahone: Dick.
Michael: Whistler’s innocent! Mahone did it!
Lechero: Tat would be te Mahone walking out te front door? How convenient. Justice time.
Michael: You are such a joke! And not even a good joke -- a pun! A bad one. You don’t even know the meaning of justice. Or convenient. This is murder!
Lechero: No, Mr. Scofield, tis is dramatic irony. *Stab!*
Whistler: ... Close one. However, I believe that that was, in fact, steel. But very dramatic.
Linc: Michael ... Sara ...
Michael/Blue Steel/Michael’s conscience: .
Whistler: *Me--*
Ep. 307
Michael: SARA’S DEAD AND IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF YOU! THIS IS VENGEANCE!
Lechero: Excellent. Confusing, but excellent.
Whistler: *-ep!*
Michael: ... also known as a “diversion”.
Whistler: You are out of your mind.
Michael: Sadly, not yet. More escaping, less psycho-analyzing.
Whistler: And then?
Michael: Vengeance.
Whistler: Oh. Good.
Cloud: *waft*
Lechero: Gentlemen, I do hate to interrupt your quiet time but I believe you had scheduled a fight to te deat.
Michael: About that ...
Whistler: ... we talked things through ...
Michael: ... embraced the pain ...
Whistler: ... spanked the inner moppet ...
Michael: ... and came to the conclusion that the whole “fight to the death” thing just wasn’t us.
Lechero: Awwww, tat’s nice. Fight or te deat ting will be. For te bot of you.
Whistler: *Whimper* *THWACK!*
Sirens: *WAIL!*
“Susan B”: Where’s Whistler?
Linc: In the trunk, but I could do an Australian accent if you like.
Sucre: BFF’S BROTHER’S SON RESCUE SQUAD: ENGAGE!
LJ: Dad!
“Susan B”: I think not.
Col. Escamilla: *BANG!* Let the coup commence.
Lechero: Are you or are you not planning to breakout?
Michael: No.
Lechero: Then you won’t mind if I tag along.
Gretchen: So far your time-management has kinda sucked -- you sure ‘bout this?
“Whistler”: Four more days should be enough. Trust me.
Blue Steel: EXECUTE OMEGA PROTOCOL: PHASE ALPHA.
Ep. 308
Gretchen: The General’s in the house.
“Whistler”: That’s code for “Remember that plan that had an obscenely high probability of getting lots of people, including you, killed just because someone’s an impatient git so we’ve gone to a lot of trouble to avoid it -- we’re going with that plan, now.” isn’t it?
Gretchen: Boo-ya. Also, off your new best friend, m’kay? Laters.
“Whistler”: *Whimper*
Michael: You lied to me.
Linc: Yeah, but ...
Michael: I don’t really have enough energy or the flowcharts right now to appropriately communicate my pain and betrayal and grief, but I do have enough faith in you, as you obviously no longer have in me, to trust that you will begin to feel appropriately guilty for using me.
Linc: Yeah.
“Whistler”: ... nothing! I just need to be outta here and your plans are completely not working and I might as well just fly ou-- not fly! I mean--
Michael: Freak-out in a highly suspicious manner? Full marks, but now is not the time, as you should know since you’re constantly checking it. Lechero’s got an idea.
T-Bag: Mail call!
Michael: Leave.
T-Bag: Lay-tahs!
Lechero: Welcome to the Eightfold Path to my Happy Place. Can you engineer us a way through this rubble?
Michael: Nirvana’s up not sideways.
Lechero: Aren’t you enlightened.
Michael: Not really. Can I use your phone?
Lechero: No.
Linc: “Don’t come home for dinner.” That’s code for “They’re coming for you.”
Sucre: As opposed to?
Mahone: They’re always coming for us! Like the spiders crawling under my skin! With their webs! And we’re the flies! Can I go home, now?
Pike: And what have we learned, Lincoln?
Linc: *BANG!*
Choppers: *Flee!*
Michael’s tattoo: Next on prison break: Da-da-DUM! The General’s in the house.
Gen. Zavala: You, Mr. Scofield, are far too dangerous for Sona.
The Tattoo FP knows he’s gratuitous preview fodder -- he did his job.
Ep. 309
Gen. Zavala: Behold the Sona Crisper o’ Doom! Or you could talk.
Michael: ...
Gen. Zavala: Feliz crisping.
Sofia: Your brother’s fine.
Linc: And by “fine” you mean?
Sofia: No corpse was identified as his.
Gretchen: Get in.
Linc: Fine.
Gen. Zavala: Your three day forecast is hot, hotter, dead.
Michael: The people responsible have bigger Whatevers of Doom than you.
Gen. Zavala: Bah, I turned Lechero into third-rate packaged queso.
Michael: Let the interrogation commence.
Sucre: Woe is me, Lincoln, for I cannot provide for my niño and his madre!
Linc: Forsooth, Fernando, my child’s life hangs upon the whims of a heinous harpy and ye want-eth payment for thine friendship? Exit stage left.
Sucre: Lo, I am ripe for the bribing! Scene.
Gen. Zavala: ... and you expect me to believe that?
Michael: It’s One Big Conspiracy. If you can’t handle it--
Gen. Zavala: Bring me James Whistler!
T-Bag: Aaaaaalex, you don’ wanna go through wit’draw-wal -- it’s lahk a lahn-g’rous rahd to hell greased with vah-rious bo-dah-lih flu-ids.
Mahone: So my situation can only improve once you leave.
“Whistler”: ... and you believed that?
Gen. Zavala: Bring in the Lounger o’ Doom!
“Whistler”: Okay, fine, I’ll talk.
Michael: Who is she?
Gen. Zavala: I will be asking the questions here. ... Who is she?
Sucre: Huzzah for deception in the name of a righteous cause!
Linc: Huzzah.
Gretchen: ... and you really want to believe, don’t you?
Gen. Zavala: Turn on the Hose!
Michael: Of Doom.
“Whistler”: Got that. Smart-ass.
Gretchen: But I’m just a teacher!
Gen. Zavala: Who has experienced ... what do you Americans call it ... “enhanced interrogation” before?
Gretchen: First-year Social Studies’ a tough gig.
Michael: Was it you?
Gretchen: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Blue Steel: TARGET ACQUIRED.
Gen. Zavala: Enough talk -- to the Vehicle o’ Doom!
Gretchen: Fine. *Thwack!* *Bang!* ... Linc.
Ep. 310
T-Bag: Whoo-eeh! Y’all hee-ah tha’? Ah am EEN!
Michael: Stay.
Mahone: Play dead.
Lechero: Go fetch. Good, Teo-
Sammy: *Click*
“Whistler”: All it takes is a little wedge to keep tons of infrastructure and rubble from falling in on us?
Michael: Amazing what chaos one seemingly insignificant piece can cause.
Mahone: Yes, it’s a funny old world. Still, you gotta gaze grimly into its widening maw of despair and try not to pass-out.
Linc: Boom?
Osberto: KA-boom.
Linc: KA-BOOM?
Osberto: Sì.
Sofia: Why did you even bring me?
Linc: To translate.
“Whistler”: So I may not exactly be just a fisherman ...
Mahone: No.
Michael: Get out.
“Whistler”: ... but I am being used by Them just like you.
Mahone: ... whatever, I’m out of sarcasm. Michael?
Michael: Wedge, please.
Bellick: Sammy’s only breathing because Brad Bellick allows it!
T-Bag: Attah boy! Let’s go fahnd-ya some ass-ceh-tone, champ.
Mahone: What’s taking so long with those tools?
Lechero: *Cower*
Bellick: Urk!
Michael, Mahone & “Whistler”: *Flee!*
Sammy: Open te door, Norman.
Lechero: Have you ever heard of Freud?
Sammy: *BANG!*
Michael: Yes, fine, I’m doomed, but please take “Whistler” with you.
Sammy: Of course I will “take care” of your friend. So wat is te pla--
Tunnel: *KA-THUD!*
Linc: You good and ready?
Michael: I’m ready.
Ep. 311
Lechero, T-Bag & Bellick: *whine* *bitch* *moan*
“Whistler”: They’ve got a point.
Michael: Thank you for your valuable input. I’ll be sure to take it under consideration.
Tunnel: *drip*
Mahone: Okay, everyone, deep breathe. We dig. Michael Plans. We maybe escape and live to scheme another day. Teamwork for the not-dying-yet. Yay.
Michael: We’ve got a Problem -- we gotta go tonight.
Linc: Which is “impossible” you said. So what’s the Problem?
Michael: I’m having a hard time studiously ignoring the possibility that I’m going to free yet another monster.
Gretchen: Sugar-pie, y’know what I do for a living?
Sucre: “Living”?
Gretchen: I read people, slam ‘em shut and chuck ‘em like third-rate bodice rippers. Here’s your bomb which you mistakenly forgot in my car. Now, what’s the Problem, sugarplum?
Sofia: *Scream!*
Gretchen: Tick-tock, boys.
“Whistler”: My belovèd is in peril (just like yours was) and I scheme in this furtive darkness to achieve the light (just like you did)! I have entrusted you with my trust, so please get me out of here, Michael.
Linc: Wow. He seems truly sincere.
Michael: Yes, he truthfully does.
Bellick: ... Bonnie and Clyde?
Mahone: Dead.
Bellick: Annie and Warbucks?
Mahone: No, I will not adopt you, Brad.
Michael: Being on the run sucks worse than prison -- the constant vigilance, the never knowing why people are staring at you--
McGrady: Yes, I can see how that would be a problem.
Michael: ... the peril to your nearest and dearest and the dearth of proper hygiene products. But if you still want to come--
McGrady: Whoop!
T-Bag: The tuh-nnelle, she’s a-waitin’ lahk mah sweet moist deh-steen-ih.
Tunnel: Soy un túnel, perra.
Lechero, T-Bag & Bellick: Budding in!
Michael: Alex, care to go ahead as well?
Mahone: Nah, I’m just happy not to have T-Bag checking out my ass.
Linc: *CRASH!*
Ep. 312
Michael: Go!
Sirens: *WAIL!*
Lechero, T-Bag & Bellick: Eep!
Mahone: What the--
Michael: Check.
Bellick: ... the tunnel! Under Lechero’s room!
Michael, Mahone, “Whistler” & McGrady: *Flee!*
Tunnel: ¿Qué?
“Whistler”: Oh, my ankle! Go on without me -- I’ll only slow you down. I insist.
Michael: Move. I insist.
“Whistler”: Ouch, ouch, ouch ...
Linc: Hey.
Michael: Hey.
McGrady: Hey?
Linc: Nice puppy.
“Whistler”: Ouch, ouch, ou-- my book!
Linc: Whatever. Last one in the water is a dad-killing bastard.
Michael, Linc, Mahone, “Whistler” & McGrady: *drift* *marinate* *seeth*
“Whistler”: Ouch, gurgle, ouch.
Michael: Sucre would not abandon us.
Sucre: *whimper*
McGrady: Papa!
Linc: Really nice puppy.
“Whistler”: Ouch, ouch.
Gretchen: Finally! Fly, my wingèd monkeys.
Linc: * SUV-fu!*
Gretchen: Nice trick, asshole.
Linc: Neener, bitch. *click*
Michael: Masterfully done -- you’re in complete control of the situation.
Linc: Is that what you call it? Than--
Mahone: I’ll just be off then. Cheerio.
Linc: KillkillKILL!
Michael: Maybe you shouldn--
“Whistler”: *Fly!*
Mahone: *scamper*
Michael: Now what?
Linc: You don’t know?
Ep. 313
“Whistler”: *Flee!*
Linc: *Thwack!*
“Whistler”: I was just trying to save innocent lives.
Michael: You’re not innocent and it’s far too late.
Linc: And my plan’s shot.
Michael: We’ll figure something out.
Linc: Yeah, “we” always do.
Gretchen: If it ain’t The Brain.
Michael: Hello, Gretchen.
Blue Steel: COMMENCING FIRING SEQUENCE.
Gretchen: Y’know, my Company’s always on the headhunt for someone with your particular aptitudes.
Michael: Try Monster.com. You’ll get instructions in five.
Blue Steel: THREE.
Gretchen: Whaa-- I mean: you’re over-thinking this!
LJ: Someone is.
Gretchen: Shut up.
Sofia: So where are the coordinates? That was the trade, no? Whistler-if-that-is-your-real-name for the coordinates that were worth all our lives.
“Whistler”: Sofia, baby, pumpkin, please, you can trust me -- you know me.
Sofia: Sì, you’re James Whistler -- you just put your lips together AND LIE!
Gretchen: That’s. It. I’m sick and tired of protecting your precious princess and what are you still doing here?
Michael: Loitering.
Blue Steel: TWO.
Gretchen: Drama queen!
Gretchen’s Minions: *BANG!*
“Whistler”: Sof--!
Gretchen: *Yoink!*
Linc: Sofia!
LJ: Dad!
“Whister”: I could kill you for what you did to her!
Blue Steel: ONE.
Gretchen: How nice for her.
Blue Steel: FIRE? Y/N
Michael: Yes/No.
Soldiers: *BANG!*
Gretchen & Co. : *Flee!*
Michael: Sucre, where are you?
Sucre: I’m fine.
T-Bag: Don’ crah fo’ meeee Sooooh-nah-mmh-mmm ...
Linc: It’s finally over. We’re fine. Right, Mike? Michael? Oh.
“Whistler”: Welcome to our little Company.
Mahone: On a scale of Identity to Ultimatum, it’s my professional opinion that Scofield’s at Supremely Pissed and I’ve been out-planned, out-maneuvered and out-drama-ed enough for ten lifetimes.
“Whistler”: We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.
Mahone: Oh. Good plan.
Yes, the Sona production of Evita is going to be the event of a lifetime (several, I suspect), and then ... wait for it .... The Phantom of Sona -- sing, Fernando!
Ep. 301
Mahone: Yes, bravo, exquisitely ironic and all that you’ve gotta get me outta here.
Michael: Not going to happen, father-killer.
Lechero: Gentlemen, Sona is a place of peace and harmony and quiet contemplation of what will happen to you if you persist in HARSHING MY ZEN--oooohm, happy place--where was I? A sí: witout te rules we are but uncout savages so we have a law -- our law -- TE LAW OF TE VOODOO CLAW O’ DOOM.
Mahone: Gosh.
Michael: I can honestly say that that’s the second creepiest severed appendage I’ve ever seen.
Lechero: You tink you are special, Mr. Scofield? Successfully engineerin’ an elaborate escape plan to free your broter and fleein’ to Panama ALL MEANS NOTIN’ HERE! I run tis place. I am te ONLY SPECIAL O-- ooohhm. I’m warnin’ you once: do not make waves.
Michael: As still as a mountain lake, I assure you.
Linc: This is so wrong, but I’m totally gonna get you outta here. They said you could be transferred tomorrow and--
Michael: That’s great but I’m not hearing the Magic S-word.
Linc: I’ve misplaced her, but I’m totally gonna find her.
Michael: Please do, otherwise, I’m gonna misplace my other less important s-word.
Pike: Mr. Scofield, we’d like to be the exclusive sponsor of Your Next Escape.
Michael: Not interested.
Lechero: Tsk, tsk, te Great Michael Scofield tieving. Who would have tunk it? Fight to te deat -- tat’s te rule.
Michael: Not necessary.
Mahone: Go for the kneecaps.
Michael: Not-- wait, why?
Mahone: I need you alive. To get outta here. Takes a man outta commission ... the kneecap kick. Trust me.
Michael: Not going to-- *THWACK!*
Lechero: We are quite entertained, Mr. Scofield, but tis little story requires closure.
Michael: No.
Mahone: *KUR-SNAP!* The end: rule broken, offender punished. Without the rules we are but uncouth savages, sí? Good, now we can all go to our respective happily ever after places.
Linc: You’ve gotta stay in here and get some guy out in a week. They found both our Magic Words before I could.
Michael: N-- ooohmmm.
Ep. 302
Michael: James Whistler? This is the part where 1) I inform you that They “sent” me to break you out, 2) you protest your ignorance of what They want with you whilst I 3) briefly grapple with the moral dilemma of freeing yet another monster before resolutely ignoring it. 4) A seemingly insurmountable problem will arise.
Whistler: But I don’t know what They want. Didn’t They tell you?
Michael: Of course you don’t. No. And ...?
Whistler: Well, you better have one seriously uber crowd-control mechanism because the moment I go up top, I’ll aggro everything in sight.
Michael: brb
Susan B: Let’s say, for efficiency’s sake, that you’ve threatened me, I’ve patronized you and go straight to how the breakout we ordered is going.
Linc: Let’s say, for accuracy’s sake, that I’ve threatened not so much you as all those you hold dear and a week is not enough time.
Susan B: Duly noted. A week is all you have. I can already tell that these progress report meetings are going to be so dynamically synergistic.
Whistler: *Meep*
Mahone: Sorry, pal, nothing personal, but the wiki on you says you drop a super-rare get-out-of-jail-free card.
Michael: You don’t want to do this, Alex. I’ll help you in anyway I can, just let him go.
Mahone: Really? Gee, thanks, Michael, but as blindingly glowy as your holy inner fire halo is, I distinctly recall that it doesn’t illuminate us wretched father-killing sinners.
Michael: Let me hel--
Whistler: *Flee!*
Mahone: *Pursue!*
Lechero’s Thugs: *Loiter!*
Linc/Sofia: What do you people want with us? Why won’t you just leave us alone?!
Michael: Lechero, please li--
Lechero: How dare you enter Te Crucible of Enlightenment witout bein’ summoned?
Michael: But I can hel--
Lechero: Out wit you!
Michael: McSucre, I need you to get me some booze.
McGrady: Party? Now?
Michael: Oh, yeah, it’s going to be a real blowout.
Mahone: *Misjudgement!*
Michael: *HOLY NOVA!*
Agua: *Gush!*
Lechero: Okay, yes, you can be of help. Te Australian is free of his Curse o’ Instant Deat.
Mahone: *Whimper*
Whistler: Thanks, mate. 5)?
Michael: Regen. afk
Ep. 303
Linc: My brother wants to talk to Sara.
Susan B: That’s so romantic it would set my heart girlishly aflutter if I had one.
Linc: He needs to know she’s alive before he can get his head back in the game which, correct me if I’m wrong, is where you need it.
Susan B: But that would ruin the suspense.
Linc: Do you see this face I’m makin’ -- this is not my cowed face.
Susan B: Lemme guess: it’s your constipated mule face.
Linc: Yeah. And I’m only half as stubborn as Michael is.
Susan B: And where will he even find a phone inside Sona?
McGrady: No phones, amigo. Well, one, but--
Michael: Of course he does.
T-Bag: Lemme think ‘bout itno.
Michael: It’s time for some redemption on your part, and it’s either my way or the local religion.
T-Bag: You wou’n’t--
Michael: Bless you, Theodore.
Whistler: Let’s talk fish.
Mahone: If you’re in category “Nearest and Dearest”, you’ll have an interesting and, possibly, short life. If not, it’ll be much more interesting and, you’ll wish, much much shorter.
Whistler: That’s not--
Mahone: Yes it is. Mind the waltzing wombats on your way out.
T-Bag: *Scurry!*
Michael: *Whimper*
Linc: LINCOLN ACTION SQUAD: ENGAGE!
Whistler: Let’s bond.
Michael: Let’s not.
The Box: .
Linc: *Whi--*
Ep. 304
Linc: ... nothing! Everyone’s fine: LJ’s fine and I’m fine. Sara’s fine and you’re fine! Right? And planning! See? FINE!
Michael: Yeah, I need you to get to the gravedigg--
Linc: *Whimper*
Michael: --er. Linc?
Linc: Fine! On it. Anything you want!
Whistler: “However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results.”
Michael: “A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.”
Whistler: “You can always count on Americans to do the right thing - after they’ve tried everything else.”
Michael: “A joke is a very serious thing.”
Lechero: Scofield’s an engineer, sì?
T-Bag: Sì, patròn, an en-gihn-ne’er of lahs an’ dupe-plih-cih-ty.
Lechero: Good, ten he should have no problem wit te electricity.
Michael: Weeelllll, this place is old: the insulation is frayed and the wire is corroded and the vital parts are in a place where I’ll get shot in the head if I go. Other than that, it’s do-able. For that cell in the corner.
Lechero: Tat’s all?
Michael: I like to feel the sunlight in the morning before it gets really sweltering. Plus, with the decor -- the bearded man with the giant cross around his neck, some sort of devil and the shackled figure with dark, shoulder-length hair engulfed in flames of agony -- it feels like home.
Whistler: So Bellick doesn’t know enough to be a problem, but Mahone?
Michael: He’ll self-desctruct all by himself. Don’t worry about it.
Whistler: Things usually neatly take care of themselves in your great experience?
Mahone: You forgot your mission-critical felt-tip black pen.
Michael: Thank you, Alex.
Mahone: You’re most welcome. *Thwack!* In the immortal words of Winston Churchill: “When you have to kill a man, it costs nothing to be polite.” Don’t make me be polite again, glow-worm.
Michael: Is the gravedigger on board?
Linc: There was a minor hitch but everything’s fine, now. You?
Michael: Fine.
Linc: Fine!
I’m afraid the finger-puppets are being horribly unreasonable for the time being -- something about “not going back” until some sort of “narrative debt” has been “paid off”.
Ep. 305
Mahone: As a connoisseur of your past oeuvres, it’s such an honor to see another ScoPlan in action. Are we escaping yet?
Michael: Just leave me alone and let me think.
Mahone: Anti-social behavior. Check.
New Guy: I think I know that guy.
Mahone: Inconveniently curious outsider. Check.
Michael: ... a microwave and transmitter -- it’s so simple!
Whistler: Improvised science project?
Mahone: Check.
Sucre: Bribe?
Linc: Boobs!
Guard: *BANG!*
Mahone: Assorted distractions. Check.
Michael: *Meltdown*
Mahone: Check.
New Guy: I remember you.
Whistler: No, you don’t.
Michael & Mahone: ...
Whistler: What a space cadet! Ha. Ha.
Mahone: ... and coffee.
Michael: Check.
Mahone: Really?
Michael: You are aware that I’m just making this up as I go along, right?
Ep. 306
Michael: So we’ve got an internal diversion, an external diversion, an exit point and a clear path. All we need now is--
Mahone: More spray on the fence?
Whistler: More dead body?
Michael: More photos, Linc?
Linc: Can’t we just trust Them?
Tyge: *Croak*
Whistler: I’m innocent!
Lechero: And I am te product of te general injustice of te human condition. What is your point?
Whistler: That, as much as I respect your charming local laws and customs, it’s not like I’m going anywhere so why don’t I just run along and--
Lechero: Sit.
Michael: Check, Alex?
Mahone: Hey, that wasn’t me -- I’m strictly unpremeditated nowadays. Also, I was elsewhere, genius.
Michael: We’re not going anywhere without Whistler.
Mahone: “We”?
Michael: As in the “we” who have an escape plan beyond the fence, genius. What do “you” have?
Sullins: Aaaaaalex.
Mahone: Dick.
Michael: Whistler’s innocent! Mahone did it!
Lechero: Tat would be te Mahone walking out te front door? How convenient. Justice time.
Michael: You are such a joke! And not even a good joke -- a pun! A bad one. You don’t even know the meaning of justice. Or convenient. This is murder!
Lechero: No, Mr. Scofield, tis is dramatic irony. *Stab!*
Whistler: ... Close one. However, I believe that that was, in fact, steel. But very dramatic.
Linc: Michael ... Sara ...
Michael/Blue Steel/Michael’s conscience: .
Whistler: *Me--*
Ep. 307
Michael: SARA’S DEAD AND IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF YOU! THIS IS VENGEANCE!
Lechero: Excellent. Confusing, but excellent.
Whistler: *-ep!*
Michael: ... also known as a “diversion”.
Whistler: You are out of your mind.
Michael: Sadly, not yet. More escaping, less psycho-analyzing.
Whistler: And then?
Michael: Vengeance.
Whistler: Oh. Good.
Cloud: *waft*
Lechero: Gentlemen, I do hate to interrupt your quiet time but I believe you had scheduled a fight to te deat.
Michael: About that ...
Whistler: ... we talked things through ...
Michael: ... embraced the pain ...
Whistler: ... spanked the inner moppet ...
Michael: ... and came to the conclusion that the whole “fight to the death” thing just wasn’t us.
Lechero: Awwww, tat’s nice. Fight or te deat ting will be. For te bot of you.
Whistler: *Whimper* *THWACK!*
Sirens: *WAIL!*
“Susan B”: Where’s Whistler?
Linc: In the trunk, but I could do an Australian accent if you like.
Sucre: BFF’S BROTHER’S SON RESCUE SQUAD: ENGAGE!
LJ: Dad!
“Susan B”: I think not.
Col. Escamilla: *BANG!* Let the coup commence.
Lechero: Are you or are you not planning to breakout?
Michael: No.
Lechero: Then you won’t mind if I tag along.
Gretchen: So far your time-management has kinda sucked -- you sure ‘bout this?
“Whistler”: Four more days should be enough. Trust me.
Blue Steel: EXECUTE OMEGA PROTOCOL: PHASE ALPHA.
Ep. 308
Gretchen: The General’s in the house.
“Whistler”: That’s code for “Remember that plan that had an obscenely high probability of getting lots of people, including you, killed just because someone’s an impatient git so we’ve gone to a lot of trouble to avoid it -- we’re going with that plan, now.” isn’t it?
Gretchen: Boo-ya. Also, off your new best friend, m’kay? Laters.
“Whistler”: *Whimper*
Michael: You lied to me.
Linc: Yeah, but ...
Michael: I don’t really have enough energy or the flowcharts right now to appropriately communicate my pain and betrayal and grief, but I do have enough faith in you, as you obviously no longer have in me, to trust that you will begin to feel appropriately guilty for using me.
Linc: Yeah.
“Whistler”: ... nothing! I just need to be outta here and your plans are completely not working and I might as well just fly ou-- not fly! I mean--
Michael: Freak-out in a highly suspicious manner? Full marks, but now is not the time, as you should know since you’re constantly checking it. Lechero’s got an idea.
T-Bag: Mail call!
Michael: Leave.
T-Bag: Lay-tahs!
Lechero: Welcome to the Eightfold Path to my Happy Place. Can you engineer us a way through this rubble?
Michael: Nirvana’s up not sideways.
Lechero: Aren’t you enlightened.
Michael: Not really. Can I use your phone?
Lechero: No.
Linc: “Don’t come home for dinner.” That’s code for “They’re coming for you.”
Sucre: As opposed to?
Mahone: They’re always coming for us! Like the spiders crawling under my skin! With their webs! And we’re the flies! Can I go home, now?
Pike: And what have we learned, Lincoln?
Linc: *BANG!*
Choppers: *Flee!*
Michael’s tattoo: Next on prison break: Da-da-DUM! The General’s in the house.
Gen. Zavala: You, Mr. Scofield, are far too dangerous for Sona.
The Tattoo FP knows he’s gratuitous preview fodder -- he did his job.
Ep. 309
Gen. Zavala: Behold the Sona Crisper o’ Doom! Or you could talk.
Michael: ...
Gen. Zavala: Feliz crisping.
Sofia: Your brother’s fine.
Linc: And by “fine” you mean?
Sofia: No corpse was identified as his.
Gretchen: Get in.
Linc: Fine.
Gen. Zavala: Your three day forecast is hot, hotter, dead.
Michael: The people responsible have bigger Whatevers of Doom than you.
Gen. Zavala: Bah, I turned Lechero into third-rate packaged queso.
Michael: Let the interrogation commence.
Sucre: Woe is me, Lincoln, for I cannot provide for my niño and his madre!
Linc: Forsooth, Fernando, my child’s life hangs upon the whims of a heinous harpy and ye want-eth payment for thine friendship? Exit stage left.
Sucre: Lo, I am ripe for the bribing! Scene.
Gen. Zavala: ... and you expect me to believe that?
Michael: It’s One Big Conspiracy. If you can’t handle it--
Gen. Zavala: Bring me James Whistler!
T-Bag: Aaaaaalex, you don’ wanna go through wit’draw-wal -- it’s lahk a lahn-g’rous rahd to hell greased with vah-rious bo-dah-lih flu-ids.
Mahone: So my situation can only improve once you leave.
“Whistler”: ... and you believed that?
Gen. Zavala: Bring in the Lounger o’ Doom!
“Whistler”: Okay, fine, I’ll talk.
Michael: Who is she?
Gen. Zavala: I will be asking the questions here. ... Who is she?
Sucre: Huzzah for deception in the name of a righteous cause!
Linc: Huzzah.
Gretchen: ... and you really want to believe, don’t you?
Gen. Zavala: Turn on the Hose!
Michael: Of Doom.
“Whistler”: Got that. Smart-ass.
Gretchen: But I’m just a teacher!
Gen. Zavala: Who has experienced ... what do you Americans call it ... “enhanced interrogation” before?
Gretchen: First-year Social Studies’ a tough gig.
Michael: Was it you?
Gretchen: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Blue Steel: TARGET ACQUIRED.
Gen. Zavala: Enough talk -- to the Vehicle o’ Doom!
Gretchen: Fine. *Thwack!* *Bang!* ... Linc.
Ep. 310
T-Bag: Whoo-eeh! Y’all hee-ah tha’? Ah am EEN!
Michael: Stay.
Mahone: Play dead.
Lechero: Go fetch. Good, Teo-
Sammy: *Click*
“Whistler”: All it takes is a little wedge to keep tons of infrastructure and rubble from falling in on us?
Michael: Amazing what chaos one seemingly insignificant piece can cause.
Mahone: Yes, it’s a funny old world. Still, you gotta gaze grimly into its widening maw of despair and try not to pass-out.
Linc: Boom?
Osberto: KA-boom.
Linc: KA-BOOM?
Osberto: Sì.
Sofia: Why did you even bring me?
Linc: To translate.
“Whistler”: So I may not exactly be just a fisherman ...
Mahone: No.
Michael: Get out.
“Whistler”: ... but I am being used by Them just like you.
Mahone: ... whatever, I’m out of sarcasm. Michael?
Michael: Wedge, please.
Bellick: Sammy’s only breathing because Brad Bellick allows it!
T-Bag: Attah boy! Let’s go fahnd-ya some ass-ceh-tone, champ.
Mahone: What’s taking so long with those tools?
Lechero: *Cower*
Bellick: Urk!
Michael, Mahone & “Whistler”: *Flee!*
Sammy: Open te door, Norman.
Lechero: Have you ever heard of Freud?
Sammy: *BANG!*
Michael: Yes, fine, I’m doomed, but please take “Whistler” with you.
Sammy: Of course I will “take care” of your friend. So wat is te pla--
Tunnel: *KA-THUD!*
Linc: You good and ready?
Michael: I’m ready.
Ep. 311
Lechero, T-Bag & Bellick: *whine* *bitch* *moan*
“Whistler”: They’ve got a point.
Michael: Thank you for your valuable input. I’ll be sure to take it under consideration.
Tunnel: *drip*
Mahone: Okay, everyone, deep breathe. We dig. Michael Plans. We maybe escape and live to scheme another day. Teamwork for the not-dying-yet. Yay.
Michael: We’ve got a Problem -- we gotta go tonight.
Linc: Which is “impossible” you said. So what’s the Problem?
Michael: I’m having a hard time studiously ignoring the possibility that I’m going to free yet another monster.
Gretchen: Sugar-pie, y’know what I do for a living?
Sucre: “Living”?
Gretchen: I read people, slam ‘em shut and chuck ‘em like third-rate bodice rippers. Here’s your bomb which you mistakenly forgot in my car. Now, what’s the Problem, sugarplum?
Sofia: *Scream!*
Gretchen: Tick-tock, boys.
“Whistler”: My belovèd is in peril (just like yours was) and I scheme in this furtive darkness to achieve the light (just like you did)! I have entrusted you with my trust, so please get me out of here, Michael.
Linc: Wow. He seems truly sincere.
Michael: Yes, he truthfully does.
Bellick: ... Bonnie and Clyde?
Mahone: Dead.
Bellick: Annie and Warbucks?
Mahone: No, I will not adopt you, Brad.
Michael: Being on the run sucks worse than prison -- the constant vigilance, the never knowing why people are staring at you--
McGrady: Yes, I can see how that would be a problem.
Michael: ... the peril to your nearest and dearest and the dearth of proper hygiene products. But if you still want to come--
McGrady: Whoop!
T-Bag: The tuh-nnelle, she’s a-waitin’ lahk mah sweet moist deh-steen-ih.
Tunnel: Soy un túnel, perra.
Lechero, T-Bag & Bellick: Budding in!
Michael: Alex, care to go ahead as well?
Mahone: Nah, I’m just happy not to have T-Bag checking out my ass.
Linc: *CRASH!*
Ep. 312
Michael: Go!
Sirens: *WAIL!*
Lechero, T-Bag & Bellick: Eep!
Mahone: What the--
Michael: Check.
Bellick: ... the tunnel! Under Lechero’s room!
Michael, Mahone, “Whistler” & McGrady: *Flee!*
Tunnel: ¿Qué?
“Whistler”: Oh, my ankle! Go on without me -- I’ll only slow you down. I insist.
Michael: Move. I insist.
“Whistler”: Ouch, ouch, ouch ...
Linc: Hey.
Michael: Hey.
McGrady: Hey?
Linc: Nice puppy.
“Whistler”: Ouch, ouch, ou-- my book!
Linc: Whatever. Last one in the water is a dad-killing bastard.
Michael, Linc, Mahone, “Whistler” & McGrady: *drift* *marinate* *seeth*
“Whistler”: Ouch, gurgle, ouch.
Michael: Sucre would not abandon us.
Sucre: *whimper*
McGrady: Papa!
Linc: Really nice puppy.
“Whistler”: Ouch, ouch.
Gretchen: Finally! Fly, my wingèd monkeys.
Linc: * SUV-fu!*
Gretchen: Nice trick, asshole.
Linc: Neener, bitch. *click*
Michael: Masterfully done -- you’re in complete control of the situation.
Linc: Is that what you call it? Than--
Mahone: I’ll just be off then. Cheerio.
Linc: KillkillKILL!
Michael: Maybe you shouldn--
“Whistler”: *Fly!*
Mahone: *scamper*
Michael: Now what?
Linc: You don’t know?
Ep. 313
“Whistler”: *Flee!*
Linc: *Thwack!*
“Whistler”: I was just trying to save innocent lives.
Michael: You’re not innocent and it’s far too late.
Linc: And my plan’s shot.
Michael: We’ll figure something out.
Linc: Yeah, “we” always do.
Gretchen: If it ain’t The Brain.
Michael: Hello, Gretchen.
Blue Steel: COMMENCING FIRING SEQUENCE.
Gretchen: Y’know, my Company’s always on the headhunt for someone with your particular aptitudes.
Michael: Try Monster.com. You’ll get instructions in five.
Blue Steel: THREE.
Gretchen: Whaa-- I mean: you’re over-thinking this!
LJ: Someone is.
Gretchen: Shut up.
Sofia: So where are the coordinates? That was the trade, no? Whistler-if-that-is-your-real-name for the coordinates that were worth all our lives.
“Whistler”: Sofia, baby, pumpkin, please, you can trust me -- you know me.
Sofia: Sì, you’re James Whistler -- you just put your lips together AND LIE!
Gretchen: That’s. It. I’m sick and tired of protecting your precious princess and what are you still doing here?
Michael: Loitering.
Blue Steel: TWO.
Gretchen: Drama queen!
Gretchen’s Minions: *BANG!*
“Whistler”: Sof--!
Gretchen: *Yoink!*
Linc: Sofia!
LJ: Dad!
“Whister”: I could kill you for what you did to her!
Blue Steel: ONE.
Gretchen: How nice for her.
Blue Steel: FIRE? Y/N
Michael: Yes/No.
Soldiers: *BANG!*
Gretchen & Co. : *Flee!*
Michael: Sucre, where are you?
Sucre: I’m fine.
T-Bag: Don’ crah fo’ meeee Sooooh-nah-mmh-mmm ...
Linc: It’s finally over. We’re fine. Right, Mike? Michael? Oh.
“Whistler”: Welcome to our little Company.
Mahone: On a scale of Identity to Ultimatum, it’s my professional opinion that Scofield’s at Supremely Pissed and I’ve been out-planned, out-maneuvered and out-drama-ed enough for ten lifetimes.
“Whistler”: We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.
Mahone: Oh. Good plan.
Yes, the Sona production of Evita is going to be the event of a lifetime (several, I suspect), and then ... wait for it .... The Phantom of Sona -- sing, Fernando!