Slowly and surely, a prison transport moseys through the desert. It's almost to Kingman...

In its back, Norman's in chains. Society thinks he's crazy. The women still think he's cool...after all this time. If only they knew him like his feminine half does...

Across from him, an armored guard sits. There are semiautomatic pistols in her belt. She wears heels, and a skirt. She's green-eyed, and wears her blonde hair in a bob.

SO much like Norman's inner female... So domineering...

Marshal McCulloch grins, raises her foot, and places it between Norman's legs, where he sits. Her arms are crossed.

"Don't be so sepulchral, Master Bates. Death is only a tragedy to those who see it as the end of all things."

His eyes narrow. Hers widen.

The transport makes it into Kingman. The transport stops at a red light.

Upfront, a guard chokes on some orange juice he's drinking. He's getting over a cold...but is otherwise well enough to work.

The driver smiles, and tells Renner he needs to spend fewer days pulling double-shifts. As tempting as it is, the state won't get any higher or mightier if one cop works too much.

Renner insists that he's a manhunter, and not a mall cop. He must prove to himself, if not to the DoJ, that he can still pull the load of a manhunter, even if his rank does advance.

The light turns green. Both guards barely notice some slight squeaky noises, as they take off...

"Your funeral," the driver says. "At least if you're still working, you'll get a twenty-one gun salute." He flashes a look through the mesh portal in the back of the cab, checking on the inmate. "These days, the state pays well to..."

Promptly, the driver pulls over, as he re-checks what he's just seen through the mesh. He and the guard both get out, and investigate what's in the back.

Before they get there, the doors swing open, ajar. Inside, Marshal McCulloch has been paralyzed, lying still on the floorboard. Norman's nowhere to be seen...

Renner takes up a walkie-talkie, and reports a fugitive. He warns the dispatcher that he's crazy, and will kill if confronted.

Across the deserts outside of Kingman, Norman runs. He's still in orange. He darts from cactus to cactus, avoiding any whisper of a manhunter who might pick up on his trail too soon...or ever.

Norman's pulled a fast one. He swears there's always a green-eyed taipan lurking inside him, just waiting to strike...