The gates are wrought iron.
There's no pulling them open.
Now why would I lock one gate but not the others?
That would be illogical.
Lord, I hate dumb prey.
Looks like it's over.
Carter's got him pinned.
Three hours, one minute. Oh.
Still below average, but considering he's got away
from Reagan and Nixon, you can't say
it was not a formidable hunt.
Connell, you're at that church?
Have been for a while.
Yeah, get ready for a cleanup.
I have a psychology degree from the University of Ibadan,
master's in behavioral studies from Oxford.
That is how I was able to find you.
You see, an hour ago,
when I got your location, I was nowhere near you,
but the entire 15 seconds that you were exposed,
you headed north.
I saw you were a few blocks
from St. Jerome's.
And though I know you are
a lapsed Catholic from your file,
church is still something familiar, eh?
When scared,
we subconsciously run towards the familiar.
It soothes us.
I knew you wouldn't immediately go inside.
Fear of being trapped the way Nixon had you confined
in the Renaissance Center, eh?
But, eventually, you would seek sanctuary.
I got here before you, locked up,
borrowed some clothes from the rectory,
and here we are...
you, me...
and my father's 20-ounce steel shaft rip claw.
Why didn't you just kill me in confession?
I wanted to see if you'd break the rules and expose the hunt.
I didn't say anything. I followed the rules.
Yes. You play with honor.
That is why I'm going to kill you quickly.
Come on, man. I have a family.
I know that from your profile, too.
You put up a valiant fight.
You should be proud.
Goodbye, Mr. Tynes.
This is my favorite part.
The gates are wrought iron. There's no pulling 'em open.
If I were you, I'd get those prayer candles
and burn this church to the ground,
'cause if you leave me alive, trust me when I say
you will see me real soon!
You said you read my file. What file?
Background on potential prey.
As a psychologist, I find it helpful in my tracking.
Troglodytes like Reagan don't ever read them.
I'm not even sure he can read.
Reagan?
You said Nixon earlier.
And I'm Carter.
Miles gives us pseudonyms to protect the hunt.
I like the name "Carter" because of his work
with Habitat for Humanity.
They use tools... just like me.
You asked for this, Mr. Tynes!
You said so yourself!
Oh, fuck.
Hey, hey, my brother.
I-I'm sorry, but I believe that is my hammer.
Huh?
Hey! Stealing from the church?
Oh, you know that is bad juju, man! Bad juju!
I'm coming for you.
Mr. Tynes!
I am coming for you.
How the hell did he get out of the church,
and Carter isn't moving?
Connell?
Did he kill Carter?
No, he...
incapacitated him.
Well, uh, just let me out of here.
That would be interfering with the hunt.
But... this is what you'll do.
When you're discovered,
you'll say you're a priest from Nigeria
staying with family in Detroit.
You decided to see the church,
and came upon vandals robbing the donations box.
They beat you and locked you up.
Hey, it could be hours till I'm found.
Yes.
Good day.
The situation's handled, sir.
Oh, I got to go. It's the runner.
Dodge, you continue to impress.
You gave them a file on me?
Carter used it to find me.
Well, yeah, after we met,
I had my team do a little recon on you.
It's all part of the hunt.
Yeah. Yeah, well, the hunt's on hold, asshole.
That psycho Carter took a chunk out of my leg.
Yeah, I'm afraid that's a "you" problem.
Fuck you. I thought you wanted a fair hunt.
I explained the rules to you. No do-overs, no time-outs.
If you're injured, I suggest you tend to your wounds.
Well, keep up the good work, kid.
I'm rooting for you.
H-Hello?
That prick.
Oh, great. Just great.
Ah, fuck!
Fuck! Aah!
Oh, fuck. I can't run.
I can't fucking run.
Sync & corrections by Costa Dax www.addic7ed.com