- Have you eaten anything? - No.
Hey, look, what is this, a picnic? Come on. Let's go, man. We got ten minutes to go.
- Punch me out, man. - You got it.
Any word from the LAPD intelligence, if there is such a thing?
- Not yet, sir. - Of course not.
Because we're a covert anti-terrorism team that is so secret...
that when we snap our fingers nothin' happens!
Sheriff's department? Airport police?
Still waiting. But Interpol insists he's in Tripoli.
Yeah, well, you-you trust... You trust that billion-dollar satellite, okay?
I'll trust a ten-dollar snitch at this point.
- Sean, look... - What?
Why don't you just give 'em a little break, okay?
We'll take a break when the case breaks, okay?
Hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth
Hallelu... Hallelu... Hallelujah
For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth
Hallelu... Hallelu... Hallelu... Hallelu... Hallelujah
For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth
Hallelujah
- And he shall reign for ever and ever - I never really enjoyed The Messiah.
- In fact, I think it's fucking boring. - And he shall reign for ever and ever
But your voice makes even a hack like Handel seem like a genius.
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah
Victor... When we... When we put this thing to bed...
y-you can brand the Fourth Amendment on my butt.
- Thank you. - Sir, excuse me. Your wife is on line one.
Sean! A jet was just chartered. Anderson Airfield.
Guess who paid the bill in cash? Pollux Troy.
- Put one of our people on that plane. - Wait! We still got no sign of Castor!
Pollux doesn't fly without Big Brother. Now come on!
You're 26 minutes late. The casing didn't fit, right?
Yeah, I told you goddam Dietrich would try to pawn off some...
cheap-shit North Korean plastic.
Casing fit like a condom.
You didn't deviate from the plan, did you, Pollux?
Well, how long did you want me to sit here twiddling my thumbs?
I paid for the jet. Save us some time.
That's what the boys are for, to hide our famous faces.
If I didn't love you so damn much, I'd have to kill you, bro.
I hate it when you call me bro.
You guys are paid to protect him from everybody...
including himself.
And stay away from downtown on the 18th. It's gonna be a little, um, smoggy.
Okay, my passengers are here. I gotta go.
Let's go. Let's go. I'm bored. Let's go.
- Here you go. - Bravo.
Would you like anything else once we're airborne?
Oh, a peach.
Sit. Come here.
You know, I can, uh, eat a peach for hours.
Um, come here.
If I were to send you flowers, where would I, uh...
No, wait. Let me rephrase.
If I were to let you suck my tongue...
would you be grateful?
There's someone on the runway.
Get off of me!
- Archer. - FBI!
This is a very big gun. Fly the fuckin' plane!
Come on. That's it.
- Come on. Let's go! - Goddamn it. Don't play chicken with a goddamn jet!
Come on.
- He's got Winters! Goddamn it! - Damn it, Sean!
All units, pin 'em in!
Close in on 'em!
One of yours, Sean?
Shit!
Out. Come on. Go, go!
Goddamn it, Sean!
Take off now.
- Fly! - I can't!
Fly, bitch!
All units, locked and ready. Follow Archer's lead.
What the fuck are you doing?
There's an engine out. We gotta stop.
- Move, move, move! - Get back! Back up!
Pollux!
- Cas! - Get over here.
Back him to me. Back him to me. He's mine!
Cas.
Secure the hangar.
Berkley, down!
Down!
Give up, Castor. Your time's up.
Well, you better hit me, Sean, 'cause you only got one bullet left.
So do you.
Wow. We've got something in common.
We both know our guns.
What we don't have in common is that I don't care if I live, and you do.
Sean, that hurts.
You're not having any fun, are you, Sean?
Why don't you come with us? Try terrorism for hire?
- We'll blow some shit up. It's more fun. - Shut the fuck up.
You watch your fuckin' mouth!
I'm about to unleash the biblical plague "Hell-A" deserves...
but I'll give this shithole a break if my brother and I walk.
- Bullshit. - Oh-Oh, no, I-I see, I see. Y-You think I'm bluffing.
Maybe I am. But, then, maybe I'm not.
More importantly, what would you do with me locked up?
You'd drive your wife and kid crazy.
Say, how is your daughter, anyway? Is she ripening by now?
Your... Your darling Janie, your little peach?
Is she ripe?
Okay.
O-Okay.
Policeman, don't shoot me.
I'm scared, Seanie!
Well, I think you better pull the trigger...
because I don't give a fuck!
I'm ready
Ready for the big ride, baby
Well, Sean, looks like Elvis done left the buildin'.
It wasn't my fault. Why won't you ever be on my side?
I am always on your side, but you have to give me a chance...
Now what?
She was suspended again. Some kid made a crack about her clothes...
- She started a fight. - That's right, Dad. Don't even ask me what happened.
Okay. What happened?
- Ah, I see. - Not like you would believe me anyway.
Jamie, look, it-it-it's not easy, okay?
I mean, loo... You change the way you look every week.
And-And the way you act. Who are you supposed to be now?
I'm supposed to be me.
Not like you have a clue who I am anyway.
I have to work tonight.
I called to tell you, but I was on hold for ten minutes, and I couldn't wait any longer.
I got him, Eve.
It's over.
Oh, Sean.
I'll make it up to you and Jamie. I promise.
I'll put in for a desk job and I'll... I'll do counseling, sit down, talk about Mike...
I'll do it, anything you want.
I just want you.
Well, good, 'cause that's what you're gonna get.
You happy?
Yes. Yeah.
What is all this?
Sir, the CIA sent this over.
I didn't know they catered. Send it back.
No, wait.
How about, uh...
What about to Anderson, Montgomery...
Berkley...
Pincus, Gianelli, Winters...
How's Loomis?
Uh, he's gonna need a little surgery, but, uh...
he'll be okay.
- What's up? - Special ops. They want a word.
Aw, forget it. I don't have the time.
Better make time, Sean.
Recovered from the jet wreckage.
Found in Pollux Troy's briefcase.
Porcelain casing.
Thermal cloak.
Nerve gas and biological payload.
It's enough to flatten a square mile.
Then depending on the prevailing winds...
the fallout'll be a tad worse than Gulf War syndrome.
A biblical... A biblical plague to LA.
Where is he? Where is Pollux Troy?
Why draw the schematic if you're not gonna build the bomb?
What, is it now a crime in this country to exercise the mind?
- I'm interested in bomb... - I won't say another word until I see my brother.
Any progress?
- I need about ten minutes alone with this guy. - Ah, give it a rest.
You got Castor. Just go home.
Look, we're not gonna evacuate the city on your hunch.
Look, I know Castor too well for this to be a hunch.
You know what, just-just run the goddamn bureau any way you like.
I could put an agent in his cell. Maybe Pollux will let it slip.
Oh, come on. He's a paranoid sociopath.
The only person he'd talk to about that bomb is his brother, and he's dead.
There is one other possibility.
Oh, God. You're keeping him alive.
Relax, Archer. He's a turnip.
Oh.
What if you could walk into Erewhon Prison...
and give Pollux a nice, big brotherly hug as Castor Troy?
I have no idea what you're talking about.
Let me try. Malcolm Walsh.
- I run the bio-cover unit for special ops. - I know who you are.
- But you don't know what I can do. - Uh...
Physical alteration. Augmentation.
Dr. Walsh can alter the likeness, even the voice of a government witness.
I think you'll recognize this patient.
We had to build your friend Loomis a whole new ear from scratch.
What we're suggesting for you, Archer, isn't a permanent transplant like that...
just a temporary trade.
Come here.
With the new anti-inflammatories, healing takes days, not weeks.
Your blood types won't match, but Pollux won't know that.
Height difference is negligible.
Skin pigment, eye pigment: both almost identical.
We'll use laser shears for the hairline, microplugs for body hair.
We'll do an abdominoplasti... take care of those, uh, love handles.
But all that's the easy part. Here's the real science.
This is a state-of-the-art, morphogenetic template.
The inside is modeled on your skull...
the outside exactly like Troy's.
Then we fit his face on top. Not a replica, but the real thing.
Then we simply connect the muscles, tear ducts and nerve endings.
- So, you wanna take his face and mine... - Borrow.
The procedure's completely reversible.
Y-You think that I want to do this?
- No. No. - There's no one else, Sean.
- No! - You have lived and breathed Castor Troy for years.
I'll get his gang to talk. That's what I do.
What if you can't? The bomb will blow, and Castor Troy will win.
Get out. Go ahead. Wipe your ass.
Damn, what the hell is that smell?
He shit in his pants. Where's Dietrich?
Hello, Sasha. When was the last time you saw Castor Troy?
- Who cares? He's dead. - Answer the question.
I know my rights. I don't have to answer shit.
You're right, but know this:
You're a convicted felon on probation for harboring Castor Troy.
One phone call from me, and your son will end up in a foster home.
I understand why you would use such a threat.
But you try to take him away from me, I swear to you...
I haven't seen him for years.
This reeks of you. It's got your signature all over it.
Maybe, but you ain't got nothin' on me and you know it.
Maybe so, but I can keep you within city limits...
or I can talk to your sister again.
She's right outside.
Only this time I'll be nice.
Hey, Sean,
how's your dead son?
I don't know any... Okay, okay, I heard somethin' about the 18th, but that's all I know.
Great. So we got a date. Now where the hell's the damn bomb?
Only Pollux Troy'll know that.
It's your call, Sean.
- Does Lazarro know your plan? - No, this is a black bag operation.
Strictly off the books. You can't tell Lazarro, and you can't tell your wife.
Oh, God.
What are you asking me to do? Okay, let's see.
You're asking me to... to break the law,
risk my neck.
And you're asking me to put in the dark all the people...
that love me...
and trust me.
I'll do it.
Sean.
Sorry I woke you.
I'm glad it's you that woke me.
And not a phone call telling me you won't be coming home.
But that's a fear I can finally let go of, huh?
Oh, it's all right, Sean. It's okay.
I keep...
I keep wanting to move this...
over here, you know?
If it had only been an... an inch to the left...
Mikey'd be alive.
And you wouldn't be.
Sean, things are gonna get better now that you're home.
The scar won't move, but it will heal if you let it.
Everything will be better now that he is forever out of our lives.
Eve, if I told you that I realize that...
that this thing won't fully end...
u-until I did one last thing...
Eve, something vital.
Okay... I... You're going back on assignment again.
Just one last time.
Come on, Eve.
"I'm going anywhere." That's what you told me.
Oh.
You don't need me to tell you what to do, Sean. You never have. So go.
But go now.
Sean, I changed my mind. This is a suicide mission.
Yeah, I know, I know.
You know, maybe this, uh... this doctor... if he... if he...
If he can do even half of what he says he can do...
maybe it'll work, I don't know.
I'd become Castor Troy, be in control.
That's the part that scares me.
Doctor, I have, uh, something...
I have this scar... that... that...
that if you can p-put this back after, after all this is over...
It... It's important to me. It's... It's like a reminder.
Sure.
Tito, please, hold this for me. Please.
Okay. Let's go.
Oh, G...
Oh, my God.
Hey, you okay? Come on. Talk to me, Sean.
Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!
- Sean! Sean! - Fuck you!
Sean, come on. Sit down. Sit down. Sit down.
Sean! Sean! Archer!
You're Sean Archer.
Sean Archer. Sean Archer.
When this is over, I want you to take this face...
and burn it.
Hey. I still sound like me.
I've implanted a microchip on your larynx. It's fantastic, but you'll have to be careful.
Pressure, sharp blow, even a violent sneeze could dislodge it.
- Just repeat what you hear. - Peach. I can eat a peach for hours.
Peach. I can eat a peach for hours.
There's a scratchy tickle.
Peach. I can eat a peach for hours.
- Once again. - Peach. I can eat a peach for hours.
- Perfect. - Now, Sean, six days until the 18th.
The clock's ticking, and so is the bomb.
You got two days to get Pollux to talk.
Either way, Miller comes in, pulls you out. You got me?
- What's the matter? - Face itches.
You all right? Come on. Let's go.
Archer's gonna be pissed when he comes back from his training op and finds out.
The guy is knee-deep in Georgia swamp.
You are now the property of Erewhon Prison...
a citizen of nowhere.
The Geneva Convention is void here.
Amnesty International doesn't know we exist.
When I say your ass belongs to me...
I mean exactly that.
This entire prison's one big magnetic field.
The boots tell us where you are.
621 to Population!
H-H-Hey, what's the matter, pal? Don't you remember the little people?
- Burke Hicks. - Oh, yeah.
I bust...
believe Sean Archer busted you for stalkin' the UN Secretary General.
Oh, no. Archer framed me. I had nothin' to do with that.
No... Word was you got wasted.
You wanna see what wasted looks like, little man?
Pollux.
Yeah!
Out of the way. Central, there's a disturbance in the population.
- Go to lockdown. - Hold that lockdown.
Come on, you pussy!
You watch your fuckin' mouth.
You watch your fuckin' mouth!
'Cause I'm Castor Troy! Yeah!
I'm Castor Troy!
- Castor! Castor! - I'm Castor Troy!
Yeah! Yeah!
Yeah!