Burn Notice

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The Devil and Michael Westen

Sam rejoins Michael in a hidden vantage point across the street and tells him they're all set. But Fi, calling from a sniper's perch on a nearby roof (oh, so that's where she is), calls to alert them that Gilroy has shown up for some reason, and is sitting in a parked Maserati up the street. She wonders why he's here. "Getting to know me," Michael says. "I guess I'll have to put on a good show." Oh, and he hates having to do that.

Showtime. Michael walks down the middle of the street to where the warehouse sentries are, El Burrito Mal among them. As they come out to meet him, he VOs, "Dominance in the battlefield isn't always about the use of lethal force." As El Diablo Mal whips out his cell phone, Michael casually wags a finger, and the top half of that phone is shot clean off. "Sometimes it's more effective to leave a few targets around to spread the word," the VO says. Or all of them, as the case may be. One of the other guys draws a gun, and is quickly dropped to the pavement by another shot. We see that these are coming from Fi up on that rooftop, as the VO continues, "Rubber composite bullets fired from a suppressed rifle won't kill your enemy." The third guy goes down and both the gangsters who stopped the rubber bullets get up make a run for it, leaving El Burrito Mal to face Michael alone as Michael VOs, "But it will make them think twice about staying in a fight." That was a fight? Looked more like a frame of bowling to me. As Fi puts down her rifle, El Burrito Mal, with his hands in the air, asks Michael what he wants. "I'm here for the van," Michael says. "What van?" EBM asks. Michael snaps his fingers. Right on cue, there's a bang, and the metal door to the warehouse falls into the street in a cloud of dust, revealing a white van waiting inside. "That one," Michael says. Get a load of David Copperfield over here. EBM takes to his heels, and Michael calmly gets into the van and drives it away. Smiling, Gilroy pulls out behind him. Perhaps he's hoping Michael will do another trick. Excuse me -- illusion.

Leading Gilroy through town, Michael VOs, "Selling yourself to an adversary is a bit like getting drafted on a sports team. You may look good on paper, but eventually they'll want to see you on the field." Michael pulls the van over and walks back to where Gilroy has pulled in behind him, putting on a big show of looking irritated. He even grabs Gilroy's jacket, which is not something I'd want to do to a freelance psychopath. Much better to do it to a full-time psychopath, who has his benefits to think of. Gilroy says he had to see Michael in action, and compliments him on his panache. "Love the suit. Who are you wearing?" Adjusting his grip on Gilroy's lapels, Michael says, "You're awfully confident I won't shoot you right here. Don't be." "Maybe I'm just not that afraid of rubber bullets," Gilroy says. Michael says he was just keeping the homicide detectives away. "Is that why you were following me?" he snaps. "To compliment me on my suit and ask me stupid questions?" Gilroy says he's satisfied that Michael's someone he can work with, and he'll be in touch. Michael's already walking back to the van when Gilroy remembers to ask who it's for. "I don't kiss and tell," Michael spits, climbing back in. Which is smart, because it not only supports the pissed-off vibe he's trying to give off, it's exactly what Gilroy wants to hear. That, and "We'll get the wrinkles out of that suit in no time."

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Burn Notice

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