"Hi again folks, it's me, good old Burton Mercer, live from the J. Edgar Hoover National Penitentiary near our nation's capital," the gubernatorial candidate jovially announced into his new camera, "As you can see, I have just apprehended the Blues Brothers after a long and fruitful chase, and once we extradite them back to Illinois, rest assured I'll have them prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, unlike that baboon Haroldson, who'd probably let them all walk."
"Haroldson's a good man," Mack spoke up form inside the narrow cell he and the other Brothers who'd been captured had been imprisoned in, "He opens up loads of jobs."
"Pay no attention to him, folks, he's a low-life con," Mercer told the viewers.
"I don't know these guys," Zee pleaded for what had to be the fifth time since they'd been caught, "I was just with them. And I deserve a phone call!"
"So on Election Day," Mercer continued ignoring him, "Cast your vote for a proven leader. Give old Burton Mercer his shot at the governor's office. It'll bring good results."
Elwood shook his head at the grandstanding outside the cell. "It's like we're live from Al Capone's vault," he confided in everyone. The room was just big enough for all of them, and Elwood could frankly see no way they could escape from it at the moment, especially since they were in the maximum security wing of the prison (Cabel, who'd just barely managed to fend off an attack by his evil counterpart during the actual arrest, had been confined to the prison's psychiatric ward for further evaluation). Worse, the Relic had been taken off them after they'd been arrested and put somewhere into storage. After seeing how huge the prison was when they arrived, Elwood could only guess how many boxes they'd have to root through to find it if they did get out. If only Jake hadn't gotten lost and hurt…
Footsteps echoed up the hall. "Mercer, stand aside, time to turn the juveniles over to their new guardians," Marvin announced loudly.
"And it's about damn time, too," came a voice that Elwood recognized as being inebriated immediately.
"Don't you worry, Jack, Buster's in one piece," Mercer reassured him. Elwood's first impression of Buster's natural father once the cell door opened was not a positive one; he could tell right away the man had consumed at least five beers over the last day, and there was a wild, angry look in his eye that could only mean violence was on the way. "Come here, Buster, we're going," he gestured to his son. Buster turned pale at the sight of him and cowered underneath the bunks. "I said COME ON!" Jack stormed toward him and grabbed his arm, "You can't be with these filthy people anymore!"
Elwood instinctively grabbed the man's arm. "You ain't takin' him!" he roared, "I ain't lettin' him go with no drunken loser when…!"
Marvin whacked the musician over the head with his rifle. "You had your day in the sun, Blues, but now playtime's over," the guard laughed at him mockingly. He grabbed hold of an equally terrified Katrina and hauled her out of the cell. "Not so rough!" Elwood shouted after him, "They're only kids!"
"So where's my kid then, Elwood?" Tony Danson stuck his head in the cell door, "Why wasn't Keith with you when they caught you?"
"He went out to walk the dog," Elwood told him.
"MY dog, you mean!" an equally aggravated Suntzman was the latest figure to appear in the door, "I'm pressing cruelty to animal charges against you, Blues!"
"You're the one who should be charged!" Elwood protested.
"OK, OK, I think we've heard enough; guys, let's get a move on," Mercer waved everyone out of the cell, "Jack, take your son and just sign out the paperwork at the desk; you'll be free to go back to your life after that."
"No, don't take me, Elwood!" Buster clawed desperately toward his father figure as his natural father dragged him out the door like an old rug. Elwood ran after him, but found his path blocked by a growling Ness. "That's right, Ness, Mr. Blues isn't going anywhere," Mercer stroked his pet on the head, "And we're going to stay right here to make sure."
"What about Keith?" Tony demanded the Department of Corrections chairman, "I want to find out where he's stashed him."
"Don't you worry, Tony, once we get Elwood into interrogation, we'll get everything we need out of him," Mercer reassured him, "Why don't you go wait in the lobby until we get the transfer papers all ready?"
Tony gave him a strange look, but walked off. Mercer locked the cell back up and settled down into a chair immediately outside the cell. The only sounds in the cellblock were the sounds of Buster screaming as he was led away. For only the second time in his life, Elwood found himself in tears. "Why'd this have to happen to him?" he asked his remaining cellmates, "He don't deserve to end up with a jerk like that! The lug's probably gonna beat him to death before it's all done."
"Elwood, we did our best," Mack put a hand on his shoulder, "Sometimes you just can't win. Why don't you sit down?"
Before Elwood could answer, more footsteps approached the cell. "Say Burt, can I have a word with you in private?" Suntzman asked his colleague.
"Sure Jim, just let me check up here," Mercer glanced into the cell for five seconds, then closed the viewing hole and walked up the hall. Elwood could still hear their voices, though, as the corridor was perfect for echoes. "So you didn't ask him about Jake?" Suntzman sounded very nervous.
"Why? Jim, you know Jake's dead," Mercer almost laughed.
"But I swear it was Jake I saw last night!" Suntzman insisted vehemently, "That was definitely Joliet Jake Blues who confronted me and blew fog in our faces!"
"So what the big deal, Jim? We just arrest…"
"BECAUSE I KILLED JAKE MYSELF; HE CAN'T BE ALIVE!" Suntzman hissed loudly.
"SHHHH!" Mercer whispered at an equally high pitch. After a brief pause, he added, "You sure?"
"Burt, remember Alvy Riley?"
"Riley, oh yeah, midlevel D.O.C. bureaucrat, was going to go public with our use of convicts for under-the-table state projects, so what?"
"Riley knew we were after him after he discovered we were essentially using the state's prisoners as slave laborers," Suntzman said breathlessly, "Just before we took him out, he came to Jake and told him everything."
"And how did you know it was Jake?"
"I didn't at first, until I cross-referenced the release dates of everyone on the cellblock I learned he'd gone to," Suntzman explained, "I reasoned that he was going to tell the guy who was going to be released first after his visit, and that happened to be Jake, so once I traced down his location after he got out, I followed him and ran him over with a tractor trailer—twice, to make sure."
Mercer whistled loudly. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier, Jim?" he asked.
"Because I was sure he was dead when I examined the body; I thought it was over with," Suntzman was even more nervous now, "I even chained weights to the body and dumped it in the middle of Lake Michigan to make sure. But that was definitely Jake I saw last night and in Vegas! If he is alive, and he told Elwood what Riley told him, we could both go down for life!"
"Jim, Jim, that's no guarantee Elwood knows even if Jake is alive," Mercer tried to reassure him, "If it is, we'll just make sure…"
Elwood didn't have the heart to listen in on more. He stumbled back to the bunk and sat down on the lower one. "Suntzman murdered Jake," he said softly.
"What?" Zee was shocked, "Your warden…?"
"Murdered him in cold blood," Elwood was too stunned to look up. He'd never bothered to ask Jake how he'd died.
"Which means we're liable to be next on his hit list," Mack, who'd also been listening in on the conversation with Elwood, looked quite grim, "I wouldn't be surprised if we have an 'accident' while they extradite us back to Illinois."
"Which also means we've got to get out of here now," Zee ran to the door and yanked on the handle. "Hey you guys, let me out of here now!" he yelled to anyone who cared to listen.
"Save your strength," Mack told him, "They're not letting us out of here."
Elwood nodded slowly in agreement. And from what he could see out the blurred window, there were guards at every station outside in the yard. They needed Jake now more than ever, but he had a feeling Jake wouldn't be coming this time.
Elwood had no way of knowing at that moment in time that he was being watched in the woods where he'd been captured. Ilvania was holding up an image of him from his holograph for all the Caucasian Province members to see. "There lays our target," he was informing them all, "Tonight, we storm the prison and kill these hell fiends once and for all."
The droning of a sawglider caught his attention. "And reinforcements are on the way," he announced as Voodshtap landed in the clearing, carrying a pair of jars. "Mice?" Armbrister asked, staring in at them.
"So they'd seem," Voodshtap opened the jars and emptied their contents on the ground, "But in actuality, their holy emissaries like ourselves, and they'll serve well as our first wave. Pastor, use your powers on them if you please."
Pastor Bedford, who was now looking less and less human due to Mongor's continued occupation of his body, stepped forward and fired blasts of energy from his eyes at the mice, who immediately reformed into the Russians and militants that had been chased after the Blues Brothers the last time they'd been out of prison. "What happened?" the Head Russian asked, looking around, "We'd entered the hall, and then…"
"That is all past," Voodshtap put an arm around him, "The person who did that to you is no more—I made sure of that personally. Now you can help all of us catch the Blues Brothers."
"Great," the Head Militant pumped his fists in delight, "Where are they?"
"In a prison we'll be storming once the sun goes down," Alderman Alderman told him, "So wait for our friends here to pass around the weapons, and we'll be ready to roll."
Both the Russians and militants cheered loudly. The two H.E.R.E.T.I.Cs walked away into the clearing where Camille and the Nazis were watching everything. "Superior numbers will insure our victory," Ilvania assured them.
"And best yet," Camille smiled wryly, "Jake can't stop us."
Jake was crawling weakly through the woods a few miles away. Severe pain was cutting through him—but that was to be expected after he had been chewed up by Hellish dogs and shot with every evil weapon in the book. He had been left barely alive when they'd stopped torturing him. There was, the Head Nazi had informed him before they'd all walked away, a church about fifteen miles to the south, but they doubted that he'd be able to reach it in his condition.
Jake was determined to make it, though. If only for the sake of Elwood and the other band members. He'd heard very clearly the plan to assault the prison and kill them all. He couldn't let that happen, not when they'd come so far.
But he needed a recharge in order to help them now. And it was proving difficult to move at all. Every step forward was a small victory in and of itself. And time was starting to run out.
"Can't give up," he thought defiantly to himself, "Must go on. Can't let Hell win."
With another groan of pain he collapsed onto the forest floor. As optimistic as he was trying to spin it, he had to admit it looked bad. They had inflicted significant damage to him, and if his injuries weren't treated soon, he could die all over again.
"If only they hadn't caught Elwood," he thought dismally, "He could come…"
Just then there was the roar of motorcycle engines coming toward him. He crawled up into a ball as the glare of headlights surrounded him. "Don't try me!" he warned everyone, "I'm not in a forgiving mood right now! I'll…!"
"Relax, Jake," a familiar figure with long hair and a beard climbed off his bike, "It looks like you could use a little help."
"State your name again please?" the guard at the prison gate asked.
"Name's Bob Lubbock, I'm Elwood Blues's third cousin, I'd like to have a word with him while he's here," Bob told him. He had no idea how he'd ended up going from California to Virginia overnight, but at least he was close to the Blues Brothers again—it had been all over the local news when they'd eaten at lunch—and this time he was going to succeed in extracted from them what they owed him. The plan had been to pose as relatives, get custody of them, and drive them out to the middle of nowhere and shoot them in the head. As the Black Diamond Riders had prison records and could be easily identified, he and the Good Old Boys had agreed to actually pick them up.
The guard picked up his phone and called someone inside the prison. "Okay, you can go on in," he told Bob, "Go to the waiting room, and someone will handle it from there."
"Gotcha," Bob gestured for Tucker to drive through the now opening gate. "That was easy," the country singer admitted as he pulled into a Visitor parking space.
"I don't know if they'll believe we're his cousins," one of the Good Old Boys voiced concern.
"After all they've done, Lester, they'll be glad to have them off their hands," Tucker reasoned with him, "They'll give them to us with no questions asked."
"They all entered the prison's waiting room. "We're here to see the Blues Brothers, the guy out front cleared us," Bob told the receptionist.
"Sorry, no one can see the Blues Brothers right now," she told them, "They're confined to solitary in the maximum security wing until further notice. Why don't you have a seat, and we'll get to you as soon as possible."
"Sure, why not?" Tucker shrugged in resignation, plopping down on a sofa, "After all, it ain't like they're going nowhere."
Elwood paced nervously around the cell. He'd heard rumors all throughout the day that their transfer papers to Joliet were nearly done. He agreed with Mack's assessment that they were probably dead ducks if they were moved, and that Suntzman and Mercer would arrange to have them killed off along the way. He felt like he was on deathwatch like so many others he'd known in Joliet over the years had been.
The silence of the maximum wing was broken only by sound of Mercer snoring outside. The Department of Corrections chairman had taken his job of personally guarding them so seriously that he—and Ness, from the sound of the dog's even breathing—had fallen asleep doing it. Indeed, Mercer had been so convinced the Brothers weren't getting away on his watch that he'd cancelled the regular guard patrols through the wing, leaving it deserted for much of the day. While this would be in favor of any break attempts, Elwood couldn't see getting past the other guards. It looked so hopeless for them.
And then he heard the sound of something bumping around in the air ducts in the walls. "You guys hear that?" he asked his cellmates.
"Hear what?" Zee had been staring blankly at the ground for the last four hours.
"Hear that," Mack had also heard it. The former bartender put his ear to the wall. "Sounds like it's coming up from below us," he mused.
And then there came a familiar bark from the wall. "Armstrong?" Elwood called out. More barking came back.
"How'd he get in here?" Zee rose to his feet.
"Who cares, as long as he helps get us out," Elwood ran to the cell door and pounded on the peephole until it burst open. Mercer snorted outside but didn't wake up. From his vantage point, Elwood could see the dog's nose peeking out of the vent against the wall—and the cell keys hanging limply in Mercer's hands. "Good boy Armstrong, pop the grate," he softly instructed him.
Armstrong's nose disappeared—and the grate shook moments later. "That's what I call using your head," Mack commented. With another crack the grate came crashing off the vent. Again, Mercer snorted loudly but remained asleep, as did Ness. Armstrong trotted onto the prison block. "Good boy, now go get the keys," Elwood pointed at them.
Armstrong walked over and took the keys in his teeth. He started tugging them away, but Mercer pulled them back in his sleep with a loud snore. The dog kept pulling to no avail. "Not now, Ness," the Department of Corrections chairman said sleepily.
"Any ideas?" Zee asked Elwood. Elwood thought it over for a minute, then snapped his fingers in Armstrong's direction and made a licking gesture. Armstrong looked at him quizzically. "His hand," Elwood whispered, "Lick him and make him drop them."
After a minute of confusion, Armstrong got it and licked away at Mercer's hand. "Cut it out Ness," Mercer chuckled in his sleep. Then he dropped the keys with a loud rattle. The three prisoners held their breath in case he woke up, but all was quite on the cellblock. Elwood squeezed his hand out the peephole. "Great work, now let me have the keys," he whispered to the dog. Armstrong picked them up and leaped up on his hind legs. Elwood grabbed them and maneuvered his arm toward the lock. He started sticking the keys in randomly. The door opened on the fifth key. Elwood slowly opened it. And waved for Zee and Mack to follow him outside. "Ya get an extra snack for this," he told Armstrong, scratching his ears.
"I've got an idea," Mack pointed at Mercer and Ness. The bartender took hold of the blanket Ness was sleeping on and dragged it and the dog into the cell. Seeing the plan, Elwood and Zee helped him carefully pick up Mercer—chair and all—and carry him in after his pet. Elwood swung the door shut and locked Mercer in. His nemesis remained soundly asleep. "Some guard he makes," Zee remarked sarcastically.
Elwood walked toward the open vent. "Kid, you down there?" he called down.
"Yep Elwood," came Keith's voice, "I'm down in the laundry room."
"How'd ya get in here?'
"The same way they always do in the movies; in the back of the prison laundry truck," Keith called up, "Come on down; I've found an old tunnel down here that might lead out."
Just then the sound of loud explosions rocked the air. Mercer woke up with a start. "Who, what, where, why?" he yelled loudly. Then he started out the peephole. "Elwood, what are you doing out there?" he asked.
"Maybe you should ask what you're doing in there?" Zee told him. Mercer took a look around the cell and immediately ran for the door and started shaking the bars frantically. "Elwood, let me out!" he screeched like a parakeet, "You can't do this to me!"
"All guards report to your stations. This facility is under attack," came the announcement over the loudspeaker. Sirens rang out through the prison, as the sound of footsteps rushing up and down stairs filled the air. "Time to split," Elwood rushed for the vent and slid down it like a slide. He landed with a thump in a pile of laundry. "Quick thinkin' kid," he commended Keith, who was standing by the door.
"When I saw them taking you all away, I had to do something," Keith told him, "We hitched a ride into town and jumped…are those sounds normal?"
Zee and Armstrong slid down the vent after Elwood. "I just saw something flying outside the window," the former said, "Something that looked like a cross between a goat and a psychotic blue jay."
"Demons," Elwood realized, "They're after us." He glanced up the shaft. "Mack, better get a move on."
"I can't," Mack called down, "The shaft's too small!"
"It was then the door burst open and dozens of heavily armed guards burst in. "I knew I heard something strange going on in here!" the leader of them shouted, raising his weapon, "Shoot them!"