Open area. Everyone's wandering around at half-speed, not really seeming to be engaged in anything too urgent, when Daniels crosses through to the computer room and ceremoniously sets a handgun down in front of Prez: "Grand jury came in Tuesday. But you knew that, right?" Prez nods reluctantly. "We're working a flight warrant today," says Daniels, and makes to leave. "There's a lot to do here, in-office," croaks Prez, afraid. Daniels turns back around, indicating the gun, and replies, as though Prez hadn't spoken, "I'd be careful with that, though. I understand the trigger pull used to be light." Heh. Still, I think there are plenty of cops who are better off just filing shit, and Prez is kind of one of them.

Philadelphia skyline, by helicopter. On the ground, the Detailettes are getting ready for a raid, assisted by some unis. They move into position as a hoodied Carver pulls out his baton and bashes in a car window, setting off the alarm. Before too long, Wee-Bey opens the front door the cops are flanking, and has to suffer the indignity of being apprehended in his drawers. While Lester and McNulty are occupied with the flailing Wee-Bey, Daniels rushes into the house. Wee-Bey bitches, "You didn't have to fuck with my ride," and as he's led off into a waiting squad car, he shoots back over his shoulder, "Motherfuckers got lucky." Yeah, that co-ordinated operation -- IN ANOTHER STATE -- was total chance, douche. Go play with your fighting fish. Carver grins as Daniels emerges from the house in time to watch Wee-Bey get into the car. Well done, lads.