Walter revisite son douloureux passé et se rendra à St Clair. Un mystérieux évènement provoquant des combustions humaines spontanées force Walter à se replonger dans de douloureux souvenirs...
PROLOGUE
Clane Center - HOT! Coffee
(late afternoon in a modern business mall and a routine customer stops at a coffee kiosk for a caffeine beverage to go)
BARISTA: Hi, Neal. Cafe Mocha, one percent, no whip?
NEAL: That's it.
BARISTA: Jill, can you get that started? That'll be Four-Eighty. (after he Wi-Fi's his payment) Enjoy.
PASSERBY: Are you okay? (as Neil collapses just outside of a main entrance to the building, as he starts venting steam and smoke. after a dozen others collapse and die within a few seconds) What's happening to them?
INFESTED WOMAN: (freezing in position) Don't move. I think when they move, they die. (to those still alive) Nobody move!
ACT I
Olivia's Apartment - Domestic Planning
PETER: (laying in bed going through the Real estate section of the newspaper) Medford?
OLIVIA: (resting her head and listening) No.
PETER: Holliston?
OLIVIA: Uh, only if I am being punished.
PETER: Wayburn?
OLIVIA: (jokingly) Only if I'm dead.
PETER: Alright. (flips page) How about Lexington? Three beds, central heat and air, dog run. Did you know that I had a Lab when I was growing up?
OLIVIA: No, I thought you were allergic.
PETER: I was, but Walter made him non-allergenic. It's got a working fireplace in the bedroom.
OLIVIA: Nursery?
PETER: (perks-up) Nursery?
OLIVIA: (tantalizing) Nursery.
(a tender kiss never follows as both of their phones activate simultaneously)
Clane Center - Meeting Jessica
WALTER: (to Astrid) What's he doing? (directing technicians in protective gear as they examine the dead) No! o-- over by the second woman! The one that's still smoking. No, you ninny. The next one over!
ASTRID: Walter. {buttons his jacket. distracts his coaching) You are going to freeze, gawd!
WALTER: (snippy) Why must you always mother hen me? I'm quite capable of looking after myself.
ASTRID: (caring) I know, but just humor me. Maybe I like doing it.
HAZMAT TECHNICIAN: (approaches. removes helmet/hood) We're good. No airborne toxins.
WALTER: Thank you. (rushes under the barricade tape)
ASTRID: Walter! Don't forget your--
WALTER: (returns to Astrid) I need my kit.
ASTRID: (has the kit waiting) Yeah.
INFESTED WOMAN: (timidly. as Walter infiltrates the mass casualty environment) Please, do something. Help us.
WALTER: (spots cell phone on ground and examines it) Maybe the deaths are associated with this mobile transaction.
ASTRID: No, Walter, this is just how people pay for things now.
WALTER: Hmm?
ASTRID: (spots the toppled beverage nearby) Uh, he probably just bought that coffee.
WALTER: Huh. What will they think of next?
BROYLES: (walking through the interior promenade of the building with Olivia and Peter) All we know so far, at Three Twenty-three P.M. more than two dozen people experienced some kind of spontaneous human combustion.
PETER: You know that's a myth, right?
BROYLES: There are survivors. Remaining still seems to have halted the ignition process... for now.
PETER: Do have any idea what's caused this?
BROYLES: I'm hoping Doctor Bishop can help shed some light on that.
WALTER: (examines a still smoldering corpse inside the facility. natters to the deceased) Okay, my friend. Let's see what secrets you hold. Hmm. I -- I had a watch similar to this once. My uncle gave it to me. Uncle Heinrich. He loved rhubarb. He was always...
JESSICA HOLT: (frustrated at the lack of action to rectify her immobilized state) ...am I gonna die?
WALTER: (caught off guard by the inquiry) I -- I can't answer that. Not yet.
JESSICA HOLT: What are you?
WALTER: (disconnected from the reality of her plight) What am -- I'm human. What are you? Is this some sort of alien invasion? Are you part of a strike f...
JESSICA HOLT: (clarifying to stop his prattling) No, I mean -- I mean, what are you doing here? Are you a doctor?
WALTER: Oh, no. I'm a scientist. Uh... May I take a blood sample? The discomfort will only be momentary.
JESSICA HOLT: (dark flirt) That's what all you men say.
WALTER: (appreciates her bluster) You are very brave.
JESSICA HOLT: (surrenders. worried) Go on, then.
WALTER: (as he draws blood from her arm) I'm sorry... um, where did you get this smudging on your fingertips?
JESSICA HOLT: I don't know. (looks around) The escalator, maybe?
(later, as the scene is being processed, the ashen removed, and the surviving grow tired of their motionlessness. Astrid runs the blood sample through a high-res microscope)
ASTRID: Her blood definitely shows signs of a foreign incursion at the cellular level.
WALTER: Viral?
ASTRID: We're gonna have to get it back to the lab to be sure.
WALTER: (holds-up the vial of blood for contemplation) What sort of virus are you? If you were aerolized, you would have infected everyone, not just those on the escalator. If you were harbored on a water tap or a doorknob, the first few contacts would have wiped you clean. What would have kept you fresh and so infectious, my lethal friend?
TECHNICIAN: (to Astrid, summoning from the base of the escalator landing) Agent, I think we found something.
WALTER: (studies the odd tech device attached to the handrail assembly) Oh, dear. This is not a virus at all.
ASTRID: Well, then what is it?
(to the entire team once Olivia and Peter have their briefing from Broyles)
WALTER: The escalator is infested with nanites.
OLIVIA: Nanites?
ASTRID: They are microscopic self-replicating robotics. There's a machine that's generating them.
WALTER: (approaching Jessica) Despite their itty-bitty size, each of them is capable of storing a tremendous amount of energy, and it would seem they can be overloaded by the bio-kinetic energy stored in the cells of anyone infected.
PETER: You mean, these people's movement is what's activating the nanites?
WALTER: (snippy) That's what I just said. And the longer they are in the bloodstream, the more sensitive they become, so that the slightest exertion can trigger the overload.
PETER: Causing them to spontaneously combust.
WALTER: (fatalistic) Like a soda pop bottle after shaking.
OLIVIA: (trying to facilitate) Okay, so who would do this, and how do we stop it?
WALTER: I don't know. I need my lab.
ASTRID: Well we can't move them, Walter. How are we gonna get one of these people to your...
WALTER: (earnest) Very carefully.
OLIVIA: Walter, we can't risk it.
WALTER: I don't know how long they have left, even without moving them. I can't be certain.
JESSICA HOLT: (interjecting) Do you have any kind of insurance? I mean, if I volunteer for your experiment and something goes wrong, what happens, you know, to my next of kin?
ASTRID: (matter-of-factly. reassuring) The Bureau takes care of you. Everybody that we work on is fully-covered. It's in the regs.
JESSICA HOLT: Okay. (surrenders her fate) You can use me. Whatever you need.
OLIVIA: I'm sorry, what's your name?
JESSICA HOLT: Jessica Holt.
OLIVIA: Do you know what you're saying, Jessica?
JESSICA HOLT: (gulps in hesitation) Yeah, I do.
WALTER: (summons nearby support personnel) I need a solid-board stretcher, uh, and some ice packs and a blanket.
ACT II
Walter's Lab - Meltdown Avoided
OLIVIA: (to the Walter's volunteer guinea pig as she fidgets on the gurney) Must seem a little bizarre, huh?
JESSICA HOLT: Well, I'm an E.R. nurse. Night shifts on Fridays, that's bizarre. (nervous laughter)
OLIVIA: If there anything that I can do to make it a little more pleasant, please let me know.
JESSICA HOLT: Actually, there is. Um, could you get my phone for me, please? It's in my handbag.
OLIVIA: Of course.
JESSICA HOLT: (when she gets her phone) Thank you. (calls out) Mike, it's me. No, I know. Um. yeah. listen, I, um, I need you to pick up Sarah after school for me, please. No, I -- I know it's not your day, um, but, you know, please, Mike. Um, I'll explain it to you later, okay? Okay, bye. Thanks.
OLIVIA: Of course.
JESSICA HOLT: Olivia, how long until this antidote is ready?
OLIVIA: I'll just check with Walter. How close are we?
WALTER: We're starting to see first results now.
OLIVIA: But how long is it going to take?
PETER: At this rate, it's gonna be at least a couple of more minutes.
ASTRID: Hey Walter, her temperature's rising rapidly.
WALTER: How rapidly?
ASTRID: Uh, two degrees in the past twenty-three seconds.
OLIVIA: What about an ice bath?
WALTER: No, that won't help. just try to keep her calm.
OLIVIA: Jessica? Jessica, I just want you to focus on me, okay?
JESSICA HOLT: Okay.
WALTER: Peter, grab the Ammonium Nitrate.
PETER: You want to speed up the condensation?
WALTER: Not unless you have a better idea.
ASTRID: Walter, she's at one hundred four degrees.
WALTER: Uh, we need sixty seconds more.
ASTRID: We don't have sixty seconds.
JESSICA HOLT: Oh, my God. Get away from me!
OLIVIA: Oh, here. (takes her hand) Jessica, just focus on your breathing.
ASTRID: Walter!
WALTER: Forty seconds more!
JESSICA HOLT: (as Olivia concentrates and relieves the stress of her overheating nanites) How are you doing that?
ASTRID: Her temperature's dropping. (all of the electrical power in the lab drains temporarily) Oh.... She's okay.
JESSICA HOLT: (feeling much better) How did you do that?
OLIVIA: (just as amazed) I have no idea.
(after the crisis has abated and they prepare to release Holt)
PETER: (injecting the anti-nanite serum into her arm) This should permanently remove and neutralize the nanites in your system.
JESSICA HOLT: Thank you. I can breathe now.
PETER: You and a lot of other people.
OLIVIA: (privately) Walter, do you have any idea what just happened to me?
WALTER: I could make an educated guess. Cortexiphan has given you certain kinetic powers. Moving molecules so quickly that you can create spontaneous combustion, yes? Well, perhaps in this case, you slowed the molecules down, causing her to cool down.
OLIVIA: (no clue) But how did I do it?
WALTER: I'm afraid I have no idea.
OLIVIA: I should get her home.
(outside the lab. walking across the busy campus to a waiting taxi)
JESSICA HOLT: You'll let me know what happens with the others, then?
OLIVIA: I will, but now that the antidote's been synthesized, they'll all be fine, thanks to you.
JESSICA HOLT: Thank you. I don't know how you did it, but you did.
OLIVIA: You know, not everybody would volunteer to be Walter's guinea pig.
JESSICA HOLT: It wasn't really for me. I've got a four-foot-tall redhead at home who's constantly in dire need of Mac and Cheese and help with her math. And her father's an idiot. (giggles at the girl talk) Well, if you ever need help getting to the head of the line in an E.R...
OLIVIA: And listen, if you find that you have any more symptoms, give me a call. (hands over her business card)
JESSICA HOLT: I will. (upbeat over her new friendship)
OLIVIA: Thank you.
JESSICA HOLT: Thank you.
OLIVIA: (answers cell phone) Dunham.
BROYLES: (calling from office) We know who's responsible for the nanites.
Situation Room - Surveillance Footage
BROYLES: (talking to the big screen footage once Olivia and Peter have joined him) This was taken ten minutes before the first victim was reported. (footage of David Jones tinkering in the escalator maintenance bay) Another camera picked him up leaving the scene, but we lost him after that.
PETER: Well, at least we know Jones is in our universe.
OLIVIA: So what does infecting a bunch of people with nanites have to do with ending the world? I mean, everything Jones has done has been in service of collapsing our two universes in order to create a third.
BROYLES: But destroying The Bridge ruined that plan.
OLIVIA: As far as we know.
BROYLES: You think he found another way to create his own universe in place of ours?
OLIVIA: I don't know.
PETER: But we do know Jones. We know he's not gonna just give up.
Walter's Lab - Forensic Bull's Eye
WALTER: That can't be. (studying the nanites in a microscope) A chimeric structure in nanites. I don't believe it.
ASTRID: (returning from inner office) That was Olivia. David Robert Jones is definitely behind this. (sees the concern on his face) Walter, what is it?
WALTER: A hundred different ways to design a nanite, and he chose this. It's inconceivable. Not by chance. Jones isn't smart enough, not by himself.
ASTRID: Wait, what are you saying?
WALTER: Jones didn't create these nanites. They're not his design! There's only one person who would construct this particular pattern.
ASTRID: Who?
Tramp Steamer - News Update
DAVID JONES: (enters the admiral's lounge) I have bad news, sir. Agent Dunham has stopped us again.
WILLIAM BELL: (turns from the porthole) Don't be so sure.
ACT III
Tramp Steamer - New Orders
DAVID JONES: Olivia beat us today. Clearly, you don't seem concerned.
WILLIAM BELL: Don't confuse a winning move with a winning game.
DAVID JONES: (looks at large chess table) This board never changes. How long do you take between moves?
WILLIAM BELL: Since the last move... about twenty years. In this game, the skill one must have above all else is patience. The board changes, but very slowly. The art of chess -- the art -- is knowing when a piece is most valuable, and then, in that very moment, being willing to sacrifice it. For in the vacuum created by the loss of what is most precious, opportunity abounds, influence is maximized, and desire becomes destiny. For example, on this board, the most valuable piece is the Bishop. (picks-up the game piece) Therefore, for the game to be won...
DAVID JONES: ...the Bishop must be sacrificed. I'll attend to it.
WILLIAM BELL: Promptly.
Liberty Island - Signature Science
(standing amid the packing boxes as Massive Dynamic leaves the former joint facility)
WALTER: (emphasizing to Nina) He's alive. I'm telling you, he's alive I knew that Jones's plan was too ingenious, too remarkable, that it had to have come from Belly. He's alive, Nina. The 'nanotech' that Jones used on the escalator, I've examined them. They were built by Belly. I -- I'd recognize his work anywhere. His methodology was all ov...
NINA: Jones had access to many projects at Massive Dynamic. He could simply have copied William's research..
WALTER: (adamant) Nina! It was the work of a master, not an imposter! I know the difference.
OLIVIA: Walter said that Bell died in a car accident on New Year's day seven years ago?
NINA: Yes. I went to the hospital. I saw his body. But it wasn't New Year's, it was Christmas.
WALTER: (not processing the discrepancy) I -- I always thought that he died on New Year, because he came to visit me the night before to say goodbye.
OLIVIA: Walter, what are you talking about?
WALTER: When I was in Saint Claire's, Belly came to visit me.
WALTER: It was New Year's Eve, 2005. (angered) They gave me additional shocks that day just to celebrate, so I can't remember what he said. Nina, I know you loved him --
NINA: (frustrated) Oh, Walter, just stop it! The car crash wasn't an accident. William had Lymphoma. He'd been trying to fight it, but... (gets emotional) I think he didn't want me to see him that way anymore. He didn't want to be vulnerable. He wanted to go out on his own terms, and he did.
WALTER: It's still possible --
NINA: (still frustrated) Oh, Walter, anything is possible, but the man I knew wouldn't try to destroy a universe. That doesn't sound like William.
WALTER: (resolved) Fine. I'll prove it to you. If my son is not too busy monitoring my cure, I'd like him to meet us.
OLIVIA: Where? (as they leave)
Saint Claire's - Fact Checking
(from three hours south-south-west of Boston to an hour's drive north-north-east of Boston. Walter sits in an holding cell and studies the equations scribbled there. nostalgia is the furthest thing from his mind)
ORDERLY: (mopping in the hallway, as Walter solemnly leaves his old stomping grounds) Well, well... Wally Bishop. Hey, Doc, you just visiting, or are you coming back to stay for awhile? (the noire humor terrifies Walter)
PETER: (waves as he locates Walter) Good news. The Administrator can see us now. Everything okay?
WALTER: Fine. (decidedly not)
DOCTOR BENLO: (sitting at her desk as she briefs the seated science team) I'm sorry, we're still transitioning to a more up-to-date record-keeping system. Federal funding isn't all it used to be. In fairness, I'm told it never was particularly good, so, technically, it never was what it used to be. I guess now it's just worse. But I'm confident these are all the visitor logs during the period of Doctor Bishop's...
WALTER: Incarceration.
DOCTOR BENLO: I was going to say 'treatment'. It has a nicer sound, and I like to think is more reflective of what we do here.
WALTER: Would you, now?
PETER: (breaking the tension Walter generated) What about your surveillance archives? Uh, security cameras?
DOCTOR BENLO: I'm afraid our current mainframe storage capacity is limited. The institution doesn't keep anything older than two years.
WALTER: (brewing) Convenient.
OLIVIA: (diffusing his ire) Walter, Doctor Benlo has been cooperating fully. Now do you see anything in those that suggests the logs have been doctored?
WALTER: No. Matter of fact, they're perfect. Very thorough. Every single individual logged in and out.
PETER: And? No William Bell.
OLIVIA: Walter, you said you had been having a lot of shock therapy. Do you think perhaps he could have been a hallucination?
WALTER: No. No. My hallucinations were rarely biped and never men. (begins huffing. smells, then tastes the log book)
DOCTOR BENLO: Doctor Bishop, are you --
WALTER: Crazy? No. May I borrow this? (the log book)
DOCTOR BENLO: Uh, um, Well, those records have already been digitized, I -- I --
WALTER: Thank you. Let's go. (bolts from chair)
OLIVIA: (low key and apologetic) Thank you.
WALTER: (quickly sticks his head back in the office) I must say, you're much prettier than your predecessor.
Olivia's Apartment - Intimidating Skills
PETER: (returning to the kitchen) I still don't know why Walter needed that log book, and he's not telling me, and he won't back off that Bell thing, either. Oh, man. Oh. one, second, hold on. I got it.
OLIVIA: (clips her fingertip with a chef's knife while prepping dinner) God.
PETER: (rushes the first-aid) Oh, that's got to smart. That's what happens when you drink and mince.
OLIVIA: (about the first-aid) Thank you. (sighs. distracted by life)
PETER: What's the matter? You worried about Walter too, 'cause honestly, you shouldn't be. I'm sure he's --
OLIVIA: No, I'm not thinking about Walter. I was thinking about that girl, Jessica. Oh, one encounter with us and her child almost becomes an orphan. And we deal with this every day. (emotional baggage grows heavy) We're playing the odds, Peter. I mean, what do you really think our chances are of having a normal life?
PETER: (assuring) Olivia, I know you're scared about what happened in the lab yesterday.
OLIVIA: I don't know what's happening to me. What I'm becoming. I've got this -- this power inside me that terrifies me because I don't understand it, (stifled by new burden) and I just -- I just want it out.
PETER: Okay. (pinky swear) So we'll figure it out. Together.
OLIVIA: Is that a personal guarantee? (receives guarantee signed & sealed with a tender kiss)
PETER: (close. lovingly) After all we've been through, I will not lose you again, Olivia. I'm starving. What's a guy got to do to get a good home-cooked meal around here?
(both migrate to the window to check-out the light show filling the urban skyline. Broyles catches the event as he returns to his parked vehicle. a substantial beam of light focuses a destructive path through a large building as it descends from high Earth orbit)
ACT IV
Boston Streets - Scorched Earth
WALTER: (on comm from the lab) Where are you now?
OLIVIA: (driving quickly through the urban streets toward the powerful beam of light) We're just passing Kenmore Square. Now, what do you mean, it's the Sun?
WALTER: Well, even though we can't see it, it's still there in the sky. Jones must be reflecting the light off of something, like one of those disco balls, and then focusing it, like we do with a magnifying glass.
OLIVIA: Well, how is he doing that?
WALTER: Well, I'm not sure yet, but I have my suspicions.
ASTRID: (on separate cell phone call from her workstation in the lab) Yeah, Farnsworth. Agent ID: J-H-1-1-2-4-0-2.
OLIVIA: And why is he doing it? Seems like he's trying to burn a hole to China.
WALTER: It's a myth. Technically, it would be India, but I doubt it.
PETER: What does this have to do with nanites? And how do we even know it's Jones?
WALTER: So you are now prepared to concede that this may well be the work of William Bell?
PETER: Not my point.
Walter's Lab - Attack Analysis
ASTRID: Okay, thanks.
WALTER: Satellite imagery?
ASTRID: Yeah, I just got access to the system.
WALTER: Radio waves.
ASTRID: It's coming online right now.
WALTER: I need geological data on Beacon Hill.
ASTRID: Walter, which one of these do you want me to do first? (really needing priority for his multi-tasking)
WALTER: (nonchalant) All of them. Uh, you said that Agent Broyles was on-site? Is he evacuating the area?
OLIVIA: (on comm from SUV) Yes, one square mile from the center of the beam.
ASTRID: Okay, Walter, the geological is printing.
WALTER: (studies the print-out) Oh, no.
ASTRID: Oh, no, what?
WALTER: I knew I'd read something about this. Three months ago, a subterranean oil reservoir was discovered below Beacon Hill.
ASTRID: What does that mean?
WALTER: (to Astrid) Imagine putting a match to a can of lighter fluid. Unless we stop this soon, the sunbeam will essentially set Boston on fire from below. (over comm link) Uh, Peter, you should alert Agent Broyles. Tell him that he'll need to evacuate an area, uh, with a radius much wider than one mile.
PETER: Well, how much?
WALTER: All of it.
PETER: All of what?
WALTER: Boston.
PETER: (raised eyebrows to Olivia) We'll call you back.
ASTRID: (studies her computer screen) Walter, you're right. There is a radio frequency that's not owned by the government that's transmitting in the S-Band.
WALTER: What's the frequency?
ASTRID: 2-2-0-2 point 5-1-8 Actually, there's two frequencies.
WALTER: What?
ASTRID: Also point 5-2-0.
WALTER: Of course. You brilliant bastard, Belly. Quick, give me something to write on.
OLIVIA: (answers new call from the lab) Dunham.
WALTER: Turn around, head South! (plotting coordinates on dry-erase board) Towards Beech Street, on the edge of Chinatown.
PETER: Why? What's there?
WALTER: I believe that's where Jones is commanding the satellites from.
PETER: What satellites, Walter?
WALTER: I think Jones has commandeered two private satellites, or maybe he'd launched them, and they're the disco balls that are bouncing the sunlight around the planet. In any case, I have triangulated the signals, and they appear to be coming from the 1600 Block off Beech Street. (grumpier than usual) Interrupt the signals and you shut off the Sun. Well, you know what I mean.
OLIVIA: Okay, we're on our way.
WALTER: Ah! Get me a knife. My lemon cake's ready.
ASTRID: Walter, if you were hungry, I could've gotten you something.
WALTER: This is not about food, Athos, this is about Bell. Where's the knife? Please, quickly?
Near Chinatown - Ambush
PETER: (as they park and look to the rooftops. peacoats buttoned) Hoo. Alright. This is the 1600 Block. See anything?
OLIVIA: Peter, look. (points to a roof) That antenna. Do you think that's what's controlling the satellites?
PETER: Could be. (turns and point to a second rooftop) There's the other one. (retrieves tactical radios from trunk of car) Okay, I'll take this one, you take the other one.
OLIVIA: Okay, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
PETER: We got to turn them off. We'll figure it out when we get up there.
(a man sits in a parked vehicle at the end of the dark alleyway between the two antennae. David Jones watches and selects his quarry as Peter and Olivia enter separate buildings)
ACT V
Walter's Lab - Brain Stain
ASTRID: (returns with the requested knife) Oh, my God, that smells terrible. What is it?
WALTER: Lemon cake, laced with pig brain. (as he slits open the top of the taste treat)
ASTRID: What?
WALTER: Hmm? Lemon cake is the perfect incubator. (taps the cake out of the mold and removes the papery contents) And I thought it was easier to get pig brain on short notice than a human specimen.
ASTRID: Is that from the -- the log book at Saint Claire's?
WALTER: Just the relevant page. I first tried scraping it, hoping Belly left some DNA behind, but he was too clever for that.
ASTRID: (doubtful) Or maybe he was never there in the first place.
WALTER: I know none of you believe me, which is why I have conducted this little experiment. The pig brain is activating a little-known side effect of Cortexiphan, which is temporary tissue regeneration. Heated between ninety and a hundred degrees, the Cortexiphan I have added to the pig brain should cause at least partial regeneration of all biological matter on the sheet of paper, and voilà, fingerprints! (studies the newly revealed bio-pattern) Although... identifying Belly's prints from these smudges may prove impossible, after all.
ASTRID: (points at a smudge) What is that brown mark?
WALTER: I don't know.
ASTRID: Walter. (as the slit on the cake surface re-seals itself)
WALTER: As I said, Cortexiphan is regenerative. You shouldn't eat it, though. (smells, then tastes the logbook extract) Almond oil. I knew it! Chilean almonds!
ASTRID: Almonds?
WALTER: Belly was obsessed with them. Even had an agreement with the importers. They sold them to him wholesale. He must've had the oil on his fingertips.
ASTRID: (follows as he races to his office to change jackets) Walter, what are you doing?
WALTER: I'm going to find Belly. A-1 Imports, down by the Seaport.
ASTRID: Walter, would you stop? This is nuts.
WALTER: I am not crazy. At least I'll be able to confirm that he's still alive. Would you excuse me?
ASTRID: Oh. What about Olivia and Peter?
WALTER: They're doing everything they can. There's nothing we can do to help them.
ASTRID: What do you think you're gonna find there? (follows him to the exit) Walter. Walter!
WALTER: I know this is a 'wild goose chase', a fool's errand, and I'm a fool, but no one is asking you to join me, Alex. It's my hunch, and I'm quite capable of pursuing it on my own, so peace out. (leaves the lab. returns a few seconds later after Astrid has grabbed her jacket and keys) I don't...
ASTRID: ...drive. Alex?
WALTER: (humbled) I was on a roll.
ASTRID: Mm-hmm. (heads for the parking lot)
Beech Street - Industrial Antennae
(maintaining radio contact a few hundred feet apart on separate rooftops)
OLIVIA: (snaps the access panel open at the base of her uplink tower) Got it.
PETER: You found the control panel?
OLIVIA: Yeah.
PETER: Now find the dial... marked 'transmission amplitude'. That's the one that needs to be tuned all the way down.
OLIVIA: Okay, got it. (finds the dial with her flashlight and starts to execute his instructions)
PETER: But not yet! Not--not--not yet. Sorry. We have to do it together. If we don't, the beam could go off-kilter, cut a swath across Boston. It'd be sort of like don't cross the streams, just, you know, in reverse.
OLIVIA: (fails to comprehend his movie trivia reference) You know I have no idea what you're talking about.
PETER: Yes, I know.
OLIVIA: Okay, tell me when.
PETER: Okay, in Three... Two... One... Go. (rotating gauges in unison. the amp gauges drop to zero and the towers cease broadcasting. the focused light beam piercing Boston dissolves back into the night) We did it. Good job. (Peter turns and receives a shot to the side with a heavy bar) Oh! (Jones offers up one of his waffle-stompers next)
ACT VI
Beech Street - Jedi Powers
PETER: (as Jones continues his ambush attack, Peter catches another heavy blow from the metal bar) Oh!
DAVID JONES: (as Peter connects with a blow of his own) Ooh!
OLIVIA: (draws her weapon, but hesitates shooting from so far away) Jones!
PETER: Oof. Ah!
DAVID JONES: Ah!
PETER: (takes another whack from the heavy bar. this one dislocates his shoulder) Ooohhh!
SECURITY #1: (private uniformed guards draw their pistols and point them at the intruder on their roof) Hey! Security!
OLIVIA: I -- I'm FBI.
SECURITY #1: Drop your weapon!
OLIVIA: I -- I can show you my badge. (wanting to cooperate)
SECURITY #1: (unwilling to let the armed intruder retain her weapon) I said, drop it! Now!
SECURITY #2: (as Olivia tosses her pistol down a few feet off to her side, she telekinetically, and unexpectedly, commands the guards to discard their weapons too. just as surprised as she is) How did you?
(realizing Peter is losing his struggle one rooftop away, Olivia gathers her composure and focuses on delivering whatever assistance her newfound ability can offer. first. get Jones off of Peter)
DAVID JONES: (as Olivia helps Peter deliver a sharp elbow strike with his good arm) Oh!
PETER: (second. tough love. time to get that shoulder back in the socket. as Olivia rotates her shoulder and projects the same action for him) Aah! Aah! (in horrific pain)
DAVID JONES: (third. payback. time to wail on Jones as Olivia commands Peter through a series of uppercut and roundhouse punches) Aah!
PETER: (tackles Jones into the electrical array) Ugh!
(victorious in the tag team match-up, Peter turns to visually check Olivia standing on the next building over. other than his damaged shoulder, both seem well enough. laying on the ground and fading fast, Jones realizes his role in Bell's life-long chess game)
DAVID JONES: I got it wrong. I was the sacrifice. (turns to make eye contact with Peter as the nanites in his bloodstream do their job) I was the Bishop. Ugh. (as the smoke and steam escape his soon-to-be corpse and half his skull sloughs off in a pile of crematorium-quality ashes)
Boston Harbor - Importer Search
(the Bishop Vista Cruiser, with Astrid at the helm, finds it way to the damp, dark docks. this particular warehouse with the tramp steamer tied-up next to it is the place Walter remembers Bell satisfied his almond addiction)
ASTRID: (as they park the station wagon and head for a door to the warehouse) Tail fins?
WALTER: Yes. Tail fins, whitewall tires, two-tone paint jobs. Oh, sure, by today's standards they're terrible for the environment, but, oh, there's something to be said for style. A-1 Imports. Come on, Dear.
ASTRID: Walter, they're probably not even -- (as he opens the unlocked door)
WALTER: Ye of little faith. It's just as I remember it. (moving through the large, empty storage area) I used to accompany Belly here on his visits. Not a smell you forget.
ASTRID: It smells like sweat.
WALTER: Exactly.
TOM: Hello?
WALTER: (politely to the longshoreman) Hello, sir. My name is Walter Bishop. I'm sorry to trouble you so late. I was hoping to speak with Ms Weisberg.
TOM: I'm sorry, who?
WALTER: Lynn Weisberg. Uh, lovely woman, yea high. Nice laugh.
ASTRID: Walter, I don't think he knows her.
WALTER: Hmm? She's the owner. Or she was. I -- I -- I was hoping to ask her about a particular customer.
TOM: Oh, I think I get it. You're talking about that import-export company. Well, they went out of business, three years ago. (demands Astrid's wariness when he unintentionally exposes the holstered pistol under his jacket)
WALTER: Oh, I see.
RADIO CALL: Tom, do you copy?
TOM: (transmits) Yes, I'm here. Coming right now. (to his visitors) Look, I have to go.
ASTRID: Um, thanks for your help. Sorry to have bothered you.
TOM: No bother. (moves to another part of the warehouse. leaving the duo to find their own way out)
WALTER: Maybe we should ask around. maybe someone else --
ASTRID: Walter, he had a gun.
WALTER: What? (rationalizing) Well... it's a dangerous neighborhood.
ASTRID: Whatever the reason, there are no almonds here.
WALTER: (a faint roaring sound wafts from the far side of the warehouse) Did you hear that?
ASTRID: Yes. Walter!
WALTER: (quietly) Come on. Come on. (scurries to investigate)
ASTRID: Walter. (hesitantly follows)
WALTER: (as forklifts and longshoreman move storage containers around in a sequestered part of the facility) What are those? (looking at the assembled strangeness) One of them sounds almost like a rhino, but more nasal.
ASTRID: (to Tom as they are surrounded by armed men) I'm sorry. We were leaving, and then we heard a noise.
TOM: (confronts the intruders he just left. to an accomplice) Go and tell him we have visitors.
ASTRID: Sir, I'm with the FBI. You're making a mis--
ARMED GUARD: Stop! Hands where I can see 'em.
ASTRID: Look, this is all just a misunderstanding. (as she karate kicks the man and grabs Walter to flee)
WAREHOUSEMAN: Aah! (falling from the martial arts strike)
ASTRID: Walter, come on! Oh.
(dodging bullets. Astrid returns fire and drops one pursuer. others converge and begin to block in Team Fringe. Tom is the first to isolate the runners. doing all she can to protect Walter in the gunfight, Astrid collapses when a single round from Tom's pistol catches her in the back)
WALTER: Whoa! oh! oh. (rushes to side of his best friend) Oh! oh! no! no! (nearly in tears, he looks up and sees the man he was hoping to encounter, only under much less violent circumstances)
WILLIAM BELL: I'm not sure I ever thought I would see you again. (saunters closer) Hello, old friend.
Source : Fringepedia
