Breakout Kings

Hey, guys.

What's up?

Same deal as yesterday?

I can't eat anyway.

My guts are a wreck.

If you just keep these animals

off me, you can have all my meals.

I'm just gonna take this butter.

Okay, can I have your butter?

Got to force something down, right?

Sorry, kid.

No deal today.

What?

Hey, Jogo, no, no, no, Jogo, wait.

Jogo, what's going on?

Oh, my God.

Oh, no. No!

No, please, no! No!

Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire!

Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire,

fire, fire, fire, fire, fire!

Keep it moving, convict.

Travis, you've lost a lot of weight.

Are you feeling okay?

Yeah, fine.

You know how it is,

Warden, when you're recovering from an injury

and you have no appetite.

Oh, no, wait, I was supposed to mail this, wasn't I?

Is it important?

Yeah, it's a state funding request.

What? Go! Oh.

Hey.

I've got to get this in the mailbox before the last pickup.

Yeah, the warden already called it down.

Go ahead.

Son of a bitch.

Security breach.

Lockdown, lockdown.

South perimeter... security breach.

Lockdown.

Lloyd, I could teach you

a hundred different fighting moves,

but if you start something on the inside,

you're gonna catch a beatdown. Yeah, that's what I'm saying.

I don't want to be starting something on the inside.

I want to be able to defend myself out here

when we're working cases; I don't need

to remind you we are a gun short.

Not everyone is Damien Fontleroy.

It's not just the runners, Shea.

Okay? The danger lurks everywhere.

It wasn't a runner that tased me last time. Are you still whining

about that? I'm suffering from PTSD.

Whining's part of the healing process.

Okay, I got a move for you. Come here. Okay.

Yeah, let's do it, let's do it. Come here.

All right, ready?

What about a goocher?

I don't know what a goo...

Aah... llelujah!

That stings me.

That's a goocher.

Who are we after today?

Travis Muncey, eh?

No rap sheet?

He was arrested six weeks ago for possession of a stolen handgun.

Escaped while still awaiting trial.

Wow, okay,

check this out, uh, he tucked the handgun into his pants

and shot himself in the butt.

Slick.

Call that a Plaxico right there.

Superficial wounds,

but the genius went to the emergency room

to get some Bactine and a band-aid.

He didn't know that they would have to report

a gunshot wound to the police.

Why are we going after this guy?

It's kind of insulting. Hey, don't

look a gift horse in the mouth.

We get one month per fugitive.

Degrees of difficulty got nothing to do with it.

Okay, don't, don't jinx us, Shea.

Oh, please, this is the easiest month ever.

Shea, you don't enter a casino through the main entrance,

you don't bet with a $50 bill, and as Kenny Rogers made

abundantly clear, you don't count your money

while you're sitting at the table; stop jinxing us.

See you got the Travis Muncey file.

More like postcard.

Well, there's a few details missing.

Prior to his arrest, Travis Muncey

had no criminal record, no known connection

to any criminal enterprise.

A total nobody and yet...

When Travis broke out yesterday

and his mug shot hit the wires,

facial recognition software flagged him in this intel photo,

taken three months ago in Rio.

Travis Muncey, a total nobody,

riding dirty with Bob Dixon, one of the most powerful

and violent arms traffickers in the world.

Shea, you jinx.

Dixon is real scum,

an English hooligan who runs guns

to every war zone on the planet.

Usually supplies both sides.

Specialty is compact weapons,

light enough for child soldiers. Nice.

We had the bastard once, until he killed two Marshals

and fled the country.

This earned him a top spot

on our top 15 most wanted hit parade.

Eight years running.

CIA and a few foreign intelligence agencies

have gotten close to him in Eastern Europe and Asia,

but he slipped away every time.

So, what's the connection between these two?

No idea; according to Muncey's tax returns,

he mostly works as a waiter.

What'd you learn about his travel history?

Passport never been used until a few months ago

when he suddenly took a six-city tour through South America.

All right, this guy really came out of nowhere.

No telling what he is to Dixon.

Trigger man, money launderer, muscle for hire...

How about none of the above?

I mean, come on, we're talking about a guy

who shot himself in the ass.

You have any better suggestions?

No.

Then shut up.

Start taking this serious, people.

Because ATF and Customs believe Bob Dixon

is on U.S. soil right now moving a massive shipment of guns.

That can't be a coincidence.

Could Dixon have helped Travis escape?

No, he used the butter

from the chow hall; he busted himself out.

Whether he had Dixon's help or not,

he is a credible link

to an extremely dangerous fugitive.

ATF, FBI, CIA,

they're all waiting for us to catch Travis Muncey.

And here's the thing,

when we get him, we're not gonna turn him in.

We're gonna use him to catch Dixon.

We do that, no one will ever

question our legitimacy again.

Mine or yours.

Let's get to work.

Hi, Lloyd. Hello.

Listen, you seem a little, little distracted today.

Are you... are you all right?

I'm fine. Good, just wanted to make sure

that recent events haven't caused

some sort of relapse or something.

I'm fine, I'm just working the case.

Finding a lead, in fact.

Good.

Ray?

Yeah.

A laundromat in Jersey City reported

a skinny, naked man stealing clothes

out of one of their machines last night.

He was moving east from the prison.

Jersey City, possibly Manhattan.

Still has an apartment on the Lower East Side. Well, does he have,

uh, a girlfriend or a roommate?

Let's find out.

You won't know if you can fly unless you actually jump.

Oh, that's rich, but it's a move I'm developing,

and it's called... the double punch.

No.

Why? One punch is good.

Two punches is doubly good.

It's twice the power. Hi-yah.

Twice the pain. Hi-yah!

Oh, is it time for round two?

I'm not having this anymore.

I'll call the cops.

U.S. Marshals.

I'm sorry, I thought you were Aaron's friends.

Who's Aaron?

He sublets the place.

The real tenant went to jail.

Is Aaron home? I don't know.

He didn't find the note I left him.

Probably sleeping it off.

He had a whole rowdy bunch over here

for some kind of party.

Lots of yelling and carrying on.

Sir, go inside, lock the door.

You don't have to tell me twice.

Clear.

Boy, Aaron knows how to party.

I guess we're not the first ones who came asking for Travis.

Could be a terribly botched attempt

at autoerotic asphyxiation.