OPENING CREDITS

Flashback - Louisiana, 1926 - field <Man #1 - What are you looking at? Look ahead, now, boy. You behave yourself. Man #2 - Get up. Billy Ray - You ready, boys? Because we're going to twist your necks. Man #1 - Take it easy on yourself, now. Billy Ray - [to Carl] Now, don't you move, boy, or I'll blow your head off. Man #3 - [as truck pulls up nearby] Hey, hey, who's that? Man #1 - Ya'll say your prayers, now. Man #3 - Who's that? What are we going to do? [DM realizes what's going on and drives his truck off the road toward the group.] Lynch mob - Hey! Hey! Hey! What are you doing? Look out! Look out! Look out! [DM drives truck through gallows scaffolding.]> CUT <Ben or Johnny - Come on, let's go! Carl - [senses 'buzz' as DM approaches and unties his hands] Who the hell are you? DM - I'm Duncan MacLeod . . . of the clan MacLed. Go! CUT [Carl takes off running, following the two sharecroppers.]> Billy Ray - What the hell did you do that for? [aims shotgun at DM, shoots him in the chest] Bobby - Jesus, you killed him. Billy Ray - Come on! They're getting away!

Streets of Seacouver Carl - [walking down street with Ricky, looks down alley] My, my, my. <I think some people are about to have a drug problem.> CUT Dealer - [to junkie] Understand what I'm saying? Are you going to take it or not?   [nearby] Charlie - [walking down street with DM] Now, was that great Chinese, or what, man? I feel like I'm going to explode. DM - I'm not surprised, the way you eat. Charlie - Hey, well, what I want to know is, how come in an hour I'm going to be hungry? DM - Because you don't eat enough fat and protein. You eat rice and vegetables . . . Charlie - Uh-huh. DM - . . . and rice digests faster than any other carbohydrate. Charlie - Oh, wow. You know, you are a walking, talking encyclopedia, MacLeod. CUT   [meanwhile] Carl - [still watching dealer] You'd better find us some wheels, Ricky. We're going to want to ride out of here. [walks toward dealer] Hey, what's up? Party's over, boys. Dealer - [pulls out sawed-off shotgun] Get lost. Carl - [laughs, grabs gun from dealer] Just relax, boys. I don't want your blow. I just want the money. Come on. [Dealer hands over wad of cash.] But you know . . . I do get pissed when people point guns at me. [turns suddenly and shoots hole in cocaine brick] You kiss the ground. Now! Now, you won't even think about looking for me, will you? And you find yourself another city. Now get the hell out of here. [Dealer & junkie slink off.]   <[nearby] Charlie - You ever think about going on a game show, man? CUT   [meanwhile] [Ricky drives up to Carl in a stolen car.]   [nearby] Charlie - That was a joke, MacLeod.   [meanwhile] [Ricky whistles at Carl. Carl walks around back of car and trades places with Ricky in driver's seat.]   [nearby] Charlie - I didn't really expect an answer. [sees Carl getting into car]> Hey, that's my car, man! Hey, that's my car, man! [DM senses 'buzz' as Carl drives past. Carl crashes the car into another car parked nearby.] Son of a bitch! Hey! Hey! {Get away from there!} DM - Charlie! Charlie - That's my car! Come on, what's the matter with you? [chases after Carl, who runs away] What did you do to my car? DM - Charlie! Charlie, wait! [runs after them] [Carl runs, staying ahead of his pursuers. CUT He runs up walkway between buildings and jumps off onto roof of building. Charlie starts to follow, but DM pulls him back.] DM - Charlie, it's only a car! Charlie - Yeah, but it was my car, man! Hey, I'm going to remember you. [Carl smiles, salutes, and jogs away across the roof.] I'm going to get your ass, man! [to DM] Hey, what was that? DM - What? Charlie - That. You looked like you knew each other. DM - Nothing. I thought he reminded me of somebody I used to know. Charlie - Oh, that's just great, man. Do you know how long it took me to save up for that car? Do you know?   Flashback - Louisiana, 1926 - field (resume flashback) [DM revives, gets to his feet, groaning, makes his way back to his truck.]   [meanwhile, in bayou] [Carl and the sharecroppers are trying to avoid their hunters.] Men with bloodhounds - Come on, boys! Follow them dogs! Come on! Come on, now! Carl - [to Ben & Johnny] Come on! [Jim Byrnes - "Jack of Diamonds" Leave here running Old {robber's} on my trail.] Mob - Come on! Move along! Let's go! Come on! [Leave here running Old {robber's} on my trail. Jack of diamonds Sure won't go my way. Jack of diamonds Sure won't go my way.] [Carl and the sharecroppers run through the bayou. Back in the field, DM starts his truck, drives toward the road.] [{Cold and captive} {had my money gone} {Cold and captive} {had my money gone} What the hell, you cowboy, It sure won't help you none. What the hell, you cowboy, It sure won't help you none.] [The men continue to flee from their pursuers and the dogs.] [Jack of diamonds Got a graveyard of his own. Mr. Jack of diamonds Got a graveyard of his own.] Carl - All right, now. Ya'll go on up the river a little ways. You're going to swim across. You gotta keep to the water so the dogs lose your scent. I'm gonna draw them off this way so they follow me. Go on, now! Go! [In boot hill yonder Her lover man done gone In boot hill yonder Her lover man done gone] [Ben & Johnny run into the river. Carl scrambles back up the bank.] [Jack of diamonds Ain't no friend of mine. Jack of diamonds, He ain't no friend of mine.] [Hunters reach the river, the dogs mill about.] [Cold-blooded murder Is always on his mind. Cold-blooded murder Is always on his mind.] Billy Ray - Damn! Bobby - We lose 'em? Billy Ray - We ain't giving up. What's the matter with these dumb bitches, Hank? Can't they keep a scent? [The hounds start baying and take off downriver.] Billy Ray - Got something now. Come on! [Dark clouds {gathering} All on account of you. Dark clouds {gathering} All on account of you.] [Carl runs through the woods, through a field.] [The boss says, "Wake up, dead man, you still got work to do." The boss says, "Wake up, dead man, you still got work to do."] [Hunters catch up to Carl and begin shooting at him as they run.] DM - [drives past on dirt road, yells at Carl] Come on! [grabs Carl's hand through the window as Carl jumps onto the runningboard and hangs on] Carl - Good timing! [gets passenger door open and climbs in] Billy Ray - Damn!   [later, deserted barn] Carl - [re DM's truck] You know, I know a fellow over in Walker County that can patch those bullet holes up for you. DM - I'm not too worried about them. Carl - [re DM's healed chest] Sometimes being an Immortal comes in pretty handy, huh? <DM - CUT Yeah, I guess this is what I get for bringing a knife to a gunfight.> Carl - [laughs] You're pretty matter of fact about not dying. You been around awhile, huh? DM - Three hundred and fifty years. Carl - Oh, no bull? DM - Nope. Carl - You remember your first time? DM - Like it were yesterday. Carl - Yeah, me, too. 1859. I was a slave not more than five miles from here. Slave master had the honor when he found out his daughter was in the family way. Didn't matter one bit that I never laid a finger on her. Somebody had to pay. I just happened to be the right color . . . like today. DM - You know, lynching's a hobby in these parts. What were you doing back here? Carl - I just came back to see some of the sharecroppers. You know, I lived better as a slave than they do now. Folks thought I was inciting people to riot or something. DM - Do you know who those men were? Carl - No, and I don't care. DM - You can't let them get away with that. Carl - Ain't nothin' to do about it. DM - I know this is the south, but there are laws. Carl - Yeah, for white people. DM - I can help you find them. Carl - Then what? We take them to court? Thanks for the offer, MacLeod, but all I want to do is get my butt back north. DM - Then what? Carl - Oh, don't you worry about it, sir. I got me some plans. [picks up rock, pitches it at glass bottle on fence] Shoop! DM - Baseball, huh? Carl - Hey, going to be in the big leagues. Yankee Stadium. Strike out the Babe himself. DM - How are you going to do that? Carl - What are you talking about? You saw that pitch! I got me one sweet arm and a fast ball you can't even see. DM - That's not exactly what I meant. Carl - Oh, you mean how can I when they don't let no negroes play except in that new negro league? DM - Yeah, something like that. Carl - Well, I don't know. Guess I'll just have to settle for something else. You know, I get me an education, I could be a politician. [laughs] Pass some laws, make some changes -- yeah, that'd be something, wouldn't it? Slave to President to the big leagues, all in one lifetime.   Streets of Seacouver [Long montage of DM driving around.] [Keith Scott - "Looking for the One" Sometimes you're walking through the shadows at night Your eyes are open but you can't see the light. You'll get a feeling, that something {goes} around. You try to move, but you're stuck to the ground Oooooh, yeah. Spinning around, {burn and go down} Oooh, yeah. Always the same feeling again. {Playing} that game, never the same. Out in the night, now, looking for the one Back to the wall, ready to fall Out on the road now, looking for the one Looking for the one Ooh, yeah. Back where we started, {broken upon you} Oooh, yeah. {Down} comes the rain, {beat} it again! Always {so strange}, living as change Keep your eyes open, looking for the one Open your eyes, shadows {in her eyes} {Someone to find now}, looking for the one Looking for the one   [later] [DM watches Ricky trying doors on parked cars, looking for an unlocked car to steal.] CUT   Pier - Carl's hideout Ricky - [as Carl opens door] It's just me. Somebody's looking for you, man. Carl - Yeah, I know. Turn around and you can meet him. [DM enters, closes door behind him.] Ricky - I didn't tell him nothin', man. He must have followed me here. Carl - It's okay, Ricky. DM - How are you doing, Carl? Carl - How do I look? DM - The same. Carl - So do you. I got to talk to the man alone, Ricky. I'll be back in a few minutes. [DM pauses by door, looks at objects on wall -- Diploma: Howard University Masters Degree (political science) for Carl Robinson. Black-and-white photo of Carl in striped baseball uniform holding a bat and glove, posing.] Carl - It's ancient history, man. So you want to talk, or what?   Outside on pier Carl - All right, come on, let's hear it, MacLeod. Aren't you going to ask me what happened? Where I went wrong? DM - You want to tell me? Carl - I don't owe you any explanations, MacLeod. DM - You're right. You don't. Carl - Look, don't you judge me, man! DM - It sounds to me like you've done that already. Carl - Yeah? What's that supposed to mean? DM - It means I don't want to play games, Carl. If you want to be a thief and live like this, then that's up to you. Carl - I live the way they let me live, all right? DM - Right. Carl - Hey, look, you ain't me. You ain't black-- DM - This has nothing to do with being black. This is about stealing a man's car. Carl - You know the way back home, don't you? [stalks away]   Police station Charlie - Great, book four. That's great. If I ever catch this guy, I'm going to-- After wrecking my car, he puts me through this. Now just in case I don't spot this son of a bitch, you got other ways of finding him, right? Kenny - Detectives have it on their desk. Charlie - Oh, good. Along with five dozen other cases. Man, my insurance is going to go through the roof here. Kenny - Did you notice any unusual characteristics? Charlie - Uh, not up close. Tell you one thing, though -- he was fast. [Kenny picks up mugshot book.] Oh, man, how many more of these are there, man? Carter - More than you can count, probably. Charlie - I can count pretty high, man. Carter - No offense. Charlie - [turning pages in book] Hey, this is the kid here. Yeah, the one who whistled and then took off. Carter - I don't think whistling's a felony in this state, Mr. DeSalvo. Charlie - Well, crack the kid and maybe you can find the other guy.   Loft apartment [DM opens door, lets Carl enter.] Carl - [looks around] Nice place you got here. [looks in fridge] Need to do a little grocery shopping, though. [reaches into fridge] DM - Make yourself at home. Carl - [helps himself to a beer] Hey, you stopped by my place. Just thought I'd return the favor. Bet you own this place, don't you? DM - That's right. Carl - And the dojo downstairs? DM - Mm-hm. Carl - I never figured out why you helped me, MacLeod, but now I know. You're one of those guilt-ridden rich white folks who like to help poor negroes. DM - What do you want, Carl? Carl - [reaches into coat pocket] Here's a down-payment for damages on the car. [holds out wad of bills to DM] I'll pay off the rest when I can. DM - It wasn't my car.   Police station Charlie - Hey, this is him, right here. Carter - Are you sure? Charlie - Yeah. I know what I saw, man. Kenny - Carl Robinson. Charlie - You know this guy? Carter - Yeah. Your car thief is wanted for murder in Arizona. Charlie - Aha.

Dojo DM - Charlie? Charlie - Yeah. [sees Carl] What the hell are you doing here? MacLeod, what is this? Carl - Hey, easy, man. I just wanted to make a little restitution. Charlie - Yeah, well, when they put your butt behind bars, man, then I'll have my restitution. Carl - Hey, chill out, brother. I've got your money. DM - [off Charlie's look] Yeah, I know him. Carl Robinson, this is Charlie DeSalvo. Carl - [holds his hand out but Charlie just glares at him] Hey, what's up with you, man? Charlie - MacLeod, who are you hanging with? This man's wanted for murder. Carl - Murder? What the hell are you talking about? Charlie - The man you killed in Arizona. Carl - I've never even been to Arizona. Charlie - Well, the cops say you have. Carl - Well, the cops are damn liars. Charlie - And you expect me to take your word for it? Carl - Hey, you can take what you expect and shove it! DM - All right, that's enough. Carl - [to DM] Look . . . if I killed somebody, believe me, I'd know it, and I wouldn't lie about it. DM - [as Carl walks a short distance away] I believe him, Charlie. Charlie - And I'm supposed to believe him, too? Carl - [returns] I don't care what you're supposed to do. You want this money or not? Charlie - [takes the cash from him] Just so you know, man, I identified you to the cops this morning. Carl - Well, that's real black of you, brother. Charlie - Well, I'll drop the charges, BROTHER. Carl - Whatever. DM - He grows on you, Charlie. Charlie - So does cancer. Talk to you later. CUT Streets of Seacouver Carter - Look at this mess -- garbage everywhere. These people don't give a damn about nothing. Kenny - You think they want to live like this? Carter - [to pedestrian] What are you looking at? Don't kid yourself, Kenny. These people are all drug addicts, criminals, and unwed teenage mothers. Sometimes all three. Kenny - Come on, Carter. You sound like the damn Klan. Carter - [sees Ricky] Hey, lookit, Kenny, there's that punk kid. [They start walking toward Ricky, who makes a run for it.] Cut him off around the back! [Carter follows Ricky while Kenny runs around the other side of the building to cut him off. Carter catches Ricky and roughs him up, throws him to the ground.] Ricky - Get off me! Carter - Listen, punk, I don't give a damn about you. I want you to tell me where to find this man. [holds up wrinkled photocopy of Carl] Ricky - I don't know him. Carter - I think you do. Ricky - In your dreams. Carter - Listen, smart ass, do you know what this is, huh? [holds up small bag of drugs] You know what this is? I think you do. Now you tell me where to find Mr. Robinson, or I'll find this on you and you're busted big-time, you hear me? You hear me? [raises his nightstick to hit Ricky] Kenny - [comes around side of building] Hey, Carter! What the hell are you doing? Carter - What's it look like? I'm running this punk in. Kenny - Then you put the cuffs on him, and you put him in the car. [helps Ricky to his feet]   Empty dojo Carl - [sparring with DM] Practice. [as they spar] Pretty good, MacLeod. DM - You should see me dance. Carl - No, thanks. DM - [after blocking several very exuberant parries] I thought you said practice. [disarms Carl] Carl - Good thing it wasn't for real. DM - Yeah, it was.   [short while later] DM - [as Charlie enters] Hey, Charlie. Charlie - [re Carl] You still here? Carl - DeSalvo . . . Now, what kind of name is that for a black man? Charlie - It's a name for somebody who's half black and half Italian, man. Carl - Oh, I got that. So which half are you? Charlie - Well, I'm both. Carl - Guess it depends on who you're talkin' to, huh? Charlie - Hey, you want to talk about it, man? Hey, I've been talking about it all my life. Carl - Must be hard being a white man in a black man's body. Charlie - Nobody talks to me like that! Carl - Hey, I just did. DM - [steps between them] What is it with you two, hm? Carl - It's a black thing. Charlie - You get his thieving ass out of here. Carl - I was just leaving. [DM gives Charlie an apologetic look and follows Carl out.]   Street near dojo DM - I'd get rid of that chip on your shoulder before he knocks you on your ass. Carl - Hey, he wants a piece of me, let him come get it. DM - You know, you've got a major attitude problem. Is there anybody you don't get on the wrong side of? Carl - Hey, I'm just a product of the times, my man. DM - And you're going to change the world by ripping off whatever you need? Carl - Look, MacLeod, deep down inside everybody is a racist. DM - No, not everybody's a racist, Carl. Not everybody hates. You want things to change? Then lead people. Carl - Don't you dare lecture me on how things can be. I stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago, man. DM - There's something else you stopped believing in, too . . . yourself.   Streets of Seacouver, night [Carl, walking down street, is passed by a slow-cruising police car. Suddenly the police car turns around and pins him in an alley.] Carl - Okay, officer, you got me. [as car drives toward him] Hey, hey, man! [Car hits him, knocks him down. Carter gets out and cautiously approaches, nudges Carl with his foot, then returns to the car and pulls an axe from the trunk, raises it over Carl.] Teen - [walking past with three of his friends] Yo, what's with the axe? I don't see no Christmas trees around here. [Carter walks slowly toward the group. They back up. Carter reaches the back of the car and places the axe inside. As he closes the trunk, a Watcher tattoo is visible on his wrist.]

Loft apartment DM - [answering door] Carl. [Carl limps inside.] What happened? Carl - See this, man? I told you. Ain't nothin' changed. DM - What do you mean, nothing's changed? What are you talking about? Carl - I was just run over by a cop -- a white cop. DM - Here. [hands Carl a wet cloth] He ran you over? He didn't try to arrest you or charge you or anything? Carl - Oh, come on, Mac. You know for some white cops, it's always open season. It's not like this is the first time. You remember when I was pitching against Satchel Paige in the negro league.   Flashback - Alabama, 1954 - diner DM - [enters diner with Carl] Look, the one in the eighth inning -- that was a pitch. Carl - [wearing baseball uniform] I knew the sucker was looking for a fast ball, so I just pulled the string on him at the last minute. [laughs] DM - I'm starving. Carl - Got to try some of them red beans and rice, man. DM - Oh, I'll try anything right now. [raises his voice] Excuse me, miss! Betty - Just a sec, I'll be right with-- [stops suddenly as she turns and sees Carl] DM - Sorry, is there a problem? [Carl sees sign: 'WHITES ONLY'. Betty turns away.] Excuse me, is there a problem? Sheriff - Tell you what the problem is. Your friend shouldn't be in here. DM - I beg your pardon? Carl - [quietly] Mac. Sheriff - Can't you read the sign, boy? What are you waiting for? DM - I thought the sheriff was supposed to uphold the law. Sheriff - He is. [unpins badge from shirt] But I ain't the sheriff right now. You boys going to leave or do I carry you out? Carl - Come on, Mac. Let's get out of here. Sheriff - Listen to the boy, Mac. DM - In a minute. Sheriff - Now! [when DM doesn't move] I told you, his kind don't eat in here. DM - I'll tell you what kind eats in here . . . [shoves sheriff's face into plate on counter] Racist pigs like you. [punches sheriff, looks at Betty] We weren't that hungry anyway. Carl - [pulls DM out the door] Come on, Mac. Diner patron - Is the sheriff all right?   [outside] Carl - Sorry about that, Mac. I should have checked for the sign. DM - Carl, whatever you do, don't apologize. Carl - Look, let's just get out of here before Bubba puts his badge back on. DM - Yeah, well, let that fat-ass try and arrest me. Carl - It's not you I'm worried about, all right? Sometimes you just got to accept things the way they are, MacLeod. DM - Oh, come on. This isn't the twenties, Carl. Carl - You got to go along to get along. You know what I mean? And I'm going to the majors, man. DM - I remember a guy that was going to make new laws. Carl - Yeah, well, he didn't get around to it. DM - You still have lots of time. Carl - Nobody wants to believe that more than me, MacLeod. [points back toward diner] But the truth is, they are not going to let it happen. DM - Oh, yeah? [pulls paper from newsstand. 'The Star Dispatch' -- headline reads: 'Brown vs. Board of Education, Supreme Court Declares Segregation Unconstitutional'] Carl - Segregation is declared unconstitutional? Ha ha, yeah! Oh, man, Mac. I never thought I'd see this happen. DM - Things are changing, Carl. All you have to do is live long enough. Carl - I don't know, man. [waves at himself, his baseball uniform] Somehow all of this doesn't seem so important anymore. Maybe I should be a part of it, huh? DM - Do it. Carl - All right. DM - All right. Carl - [laughs] Yeah. Hey, Mac, hold this for me. [tosses DM his baseball]   Loft apartment (resume previous scene) Carl - Nothing changes, MacLeod. I mean, when I think about how naive I was for all those years . . . Charlie - [on intercom] I'm sending somebody up, MacLeod. Carl - When they first integrated public schools, I really believed. I went to college, even ran for public office. So sure things were going to be different -- all an illusion. DM - What do you mean, an illusion? A hundred and thirty years ago, Carl, you were still a slave. Things have changed. Carl - Yeah. King's dead, Malcolm's dead, and Bobby's selling barbecue sauce. [Elevator arrives - it's Ricky, beat up.] Ricky - I'm looking for Carl. DM - He's right here. Carl - Ricky, what's up with you, man? What are you doing here? Ricky - I couldn't help it, man. They were gonna bust me. I can't do time. Carl - Hey, hey, slow down. DM - Who did this? Ricky - It was the cops. I didn't want to tell them, man, but they planted stuff on me. Carl - It's all right. DM - Was anyone else around? Any witnesses? Ricky - Just the other cop. He saw what was going down. He stopped the guy. I'd be dead if he hadn't come along. DM - The cop that beat you, what did he look like? Ricky - Man, put you in blues and a badge, you could be him. All white cops look the same. Carl - [encouraging] Come on, man. DM - Was there anything else? Anything? Anything at all? Ricky - I don't remember! He had me on the ground. One thing -- he had this weird thing on his wrist. Like a tattoo.   Police station Officer Warren - [looking at computer screen] It's right here. A Mr. DeSalvo was in yesterday. He dropped the charges. Said Mr. Robinson settled out of court. DM - He's not wanted in Arizona? Officer Warren - Who told you he was? DM - Who told you he wasn't? Officer Warren - If it ain't here, he's not wanted. DM - Then Mr. Robinson's not wanted by the police for anything? Officer Warren - Not for anything. DM - Thank you. [walks past Carter on his way out] Carter - [watches DM leave, then dials phone; into phone] We got him.

Outside police station CUT Carl - I don't know, MacLeod, I just don't buy this whole thing about guys with tattoos trying to cut our heads off. DM - Believe me, they exist. Carl - I've had people after me my whole life. How come I've never seen any of them? DM - Because they don't want you to. Carl - So what's up with this phony murder rap? DM - They're trying to run you down. One line in the computer, and every cop in the state's looking for you. It might be a good idea if we get out of here. Carl - Relax, man, I'm the one who's paranoid, remember? DM - [sees Carter drive past with rifle] Get down! [pushes Carl down as Carter shoots at them. Carter's squad car number is briefly visible as he drives away.] Carl - You alright, Mac? DM - Convinced? Carl - Hey, I'm skeptical, man, I ain't stupid. DM - Then you'll know it's only a matter of time until they find your place. Carl - {Enough of this} son of a bitch! I'm going to kill him! DM - Kill him? You don't even know what he looks like. All I saw was the brim of a hat and the barrel of a shotgun. Besides, he's a cop. Carl - I don't care if he's a damn cop! It'll be self-defense, man. DM - Oh yeah? And what are you going to tell them? That you're an Immortal and he's a member of a secret organization and they're trying to kill you? Carl - All right. I get your point. DM - Good. Carl - Look, maybe it's just time for old Carl to move on, man. DM - And do what? Carl - Hey, I'll get by. You just take care of yourself. DM - You still don't get it, do you? You are an Immortal. You have something other people will never have -- time and the ability to make a difference. [as Carl starts to turn away] No! Listen to me, man! Listen to me! You could do whatever you want, be whoever you want. You can live your dream. Most people grow old and die before they can do that. If you want to live the rest of your life like a thief, then go ahead. Carl - All right, Mac. You made your point. So what do we do about this cop? DM - We have to find out who he is. [suddenly remembering] Five ninety-two. Five-Nine-Two.   Police station, night [Carter exits station, walks to his squad car. 592 is stenciled on the side.] Carl - [watching from shadows nearby] That's him. That's the guy from the alley. DM - Which one? Carl - The driver. [watches as they drive away] Okay, so now what do we do? DM - We wait.   [some time later] Cop - All right, goodnight, Phil. Phil - Yeah, see you later. Carl - Come on, Mac. There's no way this cop's going to give a damn. DM - Why? Because he's white? Carl - Yeah, that's right. DM - This might come as a surprise, but so am I. [approaches Kenny] Officer, can I talk to you for a moment? Kenny - Okay. DM - It's about your partner. Kenny - What about him? DM - You stopped him from beating a kid half to death the other day. Kenny - Don't know what you're talking about. DM - I'm talking about a racist who's trying to murder my friend. Kenny - You expect me to do something about it? You made a mistake. DM - You know, you're right. I mistook you for a cop.   Pier - Carl's hideout, next morning [Carter drives up, gets out of car with shotgun and axe, approaches Carl who is fixing boards on raised platform above pier.] Carter - Hello, Carl. Nice to see you again. Carl - What do you want? Carter - I'm gonna kill you . . . forever. Carl - Come on, man. I don't even know you. What's this all about? I didn't do nothing. Carter - [raises axe] You live. Kenny - [from below] Put it down, Carter. Carter - Get out of here, kid. Kenny - Why? Carter - Just get the hell out of here! Kenny - I can't. What's this all about? Carl - He doesn't want any witnesses for the execution. Carter - He's wanted for murder. Kenny - Who's murder? Huh? I checked with Arizona. Carter - You don't know what the hell these people are. Kenny - Shotgun down. Carter - He doesn't deserve to live. Kenny - Please . . . put it down. Carter - You're over your head, Kenny. Trust me. You don't understand what's going on here. Kenny - I understand enough to know what attempted murder looks like. Carter - What, are you going to shoot me, rookie? Kenny - [cocks gun] If I have to. Carter - I don't think so. [As Carter aims shotgun at Carl, DM sneaks up ladder from below and grabs his leg, pulling him off balance. As the shotgun swings away from its target, Kenny fires. Carter is hit and falls from the walkway into the water below.]

Ballpark locker room Player - [as players leave locker room] Time to play. Time to play. DM - They let anybody on this team, don't they? Carl - Oh, yeah. Anybody that throws a ninety-five-mile-an-hour fast ball. Well, there's one thing about living forever . . . got plenty of time to start over. DM - I thought you wanted to be President. Carl - Well, still do. It's just going to take a while to work out my background history before I can run for public office. DM - Well, maybe in a few years. Carl - Oh, definitely. Besides, Mac, with what they're paying me, I'm going to have a hell of a campaign. DM - [chuckles] You might even get my vote. Carl - I'm counting on it, MacLeod. [Star-Spangled Banner begins to play outside.] DM - Hey, they're playing your song.