Speaking of. Ms. Justine leans up against some rubble and declares that this is the end of the line for her. She gestures vaguely and says Jason is two hours that way. This does not please Neville. She protests that she's scared of the reprogramming center and doesn't want to get any closer. Yeah, that's not going to fly. Neville frog-marches her in the general direction she indicated, but they get sidetracked by a tent full of corpses, surrounded by flies. Ms. Justine explains this was an exercise for the cadets from the center -- they were sent out to kill whoever they can find. Tom is alarmed, because, he says, the corpses look like they've been ripped apart by wolves.
Ms. Justine explains that this reprogramming center is the patriots' boot camp for their special ops soldiers, and Neville growls, "More like Hitler Youth on meth." Ah, Christ, just when the whole damn Internet's smug Breaking Bad hysteria was starting to die down. We get it, you liked a TV show. Can we all move on now? Ms. Justine agrees. (With Neville. Not with my contrariness.) Before they can say any more, several cadets attack. Neville returns fire briefly and he and Ms. Justine flee, pursued by extras from District 2. Just as they're about to escape, Neville locks eyes with one of the cadets—it's Jason. They stare at each other, and then Jason raises his gun, takes aim, and fires at his father.
Neville ducks into a warehouse to hide, and then sits staring, shell-shocked at what's become of his son.
Willoughby. Miles interrupts Rachel's daily Think About How Awesome I Am time. She snaps something about his reunion with Murdery Monroe, and he caustically replies that he's happy to see her, too. Man, it is so pleasant spending an hour every week with these miserable assholes who all hate each other. Great plan, writers, making everyone a dickhead. Miles and Rachel snarl at each other some more. The upshot is she wants to be rid of Monroe, but Miles loves him, and also knows how useful Monroe is in starting and maintaining their war against, let's not forget, the people who put Rachel on a wanted poster. She is, as ever, an ungrateful shit. I almost can't believe I'm on Team Monroe, but that's how much I hate Rachel.
Monroe is planning his next acts of mayhem when flash-bang grenades smash in the windows of his li'l murder shack. He comes stumbling outside, waving his knife, to find a whole squadron of patriots aiming rifles at him. He fights viciously, but they manage to subdue him. Ed Truman, accompanied by a Texan, informs Monroe that he's under arrest.