Am I misguided in my assessment of the mayor? Last week, I penned my thoughts on Mike McLusky, depicting him as one who rarely seems to possess any meticulously crafted strategies to tackle Kingstown's relentless violent crimes or its incessant crises—merely resorting to hasty solutions while imploring his associates to hold tight. However, the latest episode has Mike emerging as... capable? In command? Perhaps even a chess move ahead of his adversaries? Could this be the same show I'm watching?
The aptly named "Captain of the Shit Out of Luck" kicks off with another of Kingstown's signature "oh dear, what fresh hell is this?" moments. A helmeted figure astride a motorcycle unleashes grenades over the prison walls, wreaking havoc on a group of Aryans engaged in labor duties. Simultaneously, a sniper lurks across from the facility, picking off guards to prevent them from apprehending the motorcyclist. (Not the wisest timing for a TV series to feature a sniper, given recent events. But truth be told, few weeks escape unscathed these days.)
Three inmates and a corrections officer lose their lives, while one Aryan suffers a grotesque facial disfigurement, leaving a trail of horror and fury in its wake. Merle Callahan finds himself hospital-bound and seething with rage.
This attack begs two pivotal questions: (1) Who stands behind this brutality? (2) Can Mike McLusky transform this calamity into an opportunity? Typically, the answer to the latter would be a resigned "He might, but he won't." Yet, this week, something seems to be brewing within Mike's mind, hinting at a shift in his usual modus operandi.
First, Mike gracefully makes his way to Merle, subtly reinforcing his allegiance to the racist demagogue by whispering, "I yearned to be the first visage you beheld upon waking." However, Merle's true colors are swiftly revealed as he vents his ire, grumbling that the first face he encountered was an "immigrant" cop, oblivious to the fact that this individual was a proud native of Kingstown, adorned with a warm hue of brown skin. Merle's ire shifts, accusing Mike of failing in his solemn vow to "take down Bunny Washington," now craving more than just intensified police scrutiny on the Crips; he desires nothing short of a bloodbath.
At first glance, Mike's response might seem like another iteration of his calm, reassuring mantra: "Trust me, I've got this under control." Indeed, he assures Merle that Bunny's fate is sealed in his hands. Yet, beneath the surface, Mike subtly sows discord, planting the seed of doubt in Merle's mind about the Aryans' true adversaries—the Russians, who, in all likelihood, possess a far more formidable arsenal, including grenades and high-caliber rifles. Mike knows full well that Bunny too wields such destructive power, and that the sniper was of African descent. But it's a simple matter to manipulate a prejudiced mind like Merle's, convincing him that the white supremacists are better equipped and more organized.
Fate smiles upon Mike as the prison raid disrupts the Aryans' lucrative drug empire, prompting a pair of Merle's operatives to hastily seek Konstantin's assistance for replenishment. Their arrival coincides with Konstantin's simmering rage over the murder of the innocent Eastern European teenagers, leaving him baffled over the culprit. The Crips, with their strict code against women trafficking, seem an unlikely suspect. But what about these brazen Aryans, brazenly demanding narcotics on his yacht? Without hesitation, Konstantin executes one of the visitors, sparing the other as a grim message to Merle, who, languishing in his hospital bed, is consumed by sickness and agony, his thoughts muddled. "It's time to set that bastard's world ablaze," he snarls viciously to his loyal henchman.
Did Mike meticulously orchestrate every detail of this intricate web, or was it mere serendipity at play? The clues suggest he might have masterminded the rift between the Russians and Aryans, a strategic move perhaps to shield Bunny, albeit unwittingly on her part. He cunningly feeds Ferguson and the KPD a morsel about the Crips' hidden arsenal, yet demands a preview of their strike, which ironically culminates in a SWAT blitz on an abandoned warehouse, a barren shell of its intended target.
Ferguson seethes at the Crips' clever evasion of the law's grasp, but Mike remains unfazed, insisting the sole victory lies in sending a chilling reminder to the gangs that the police's bite can indeed inflict pain. Then, Mike's enigmatic smile curls, provoking Ferguson's ire to boiling point. The credits roll, leaving us with more questions than answers.
Similar to recent installments of 'Mayor of Kingstown,' this episode falls short on adrenaline-pumping action, transitioning abruptly from a fiery prologue into protracted scenes of dialogue and intricate plotting. Yet, this time around, the machinations appear more pointed and fruitful, hinting at a deeper game at play.
Amidst the escalating gang warfare, a thought lingers, tantalizingly new: Could any soul trapped in the web of Kingstown find a way out, breaking free from this cycle of violence and intrigue?
This offer, tendered directly to Iris by Konstantin, stems from his desire to alleviate the burden of guilt weighing heavily on him for the years of hardship the Russians have inflicted upon her. He intends to provide her with a fresh identity and fully equipped life in a new realm, a chance at redemption. Yet, Iris resists, sharing with Mike, who urges her to seize the opportunity, that "there are always strings attached" and "such gestures rarely come without a hidden agenda."
On the other hand, Bunny finds more receptive ears in Raphael's son, convincing them of the need to seek refuge in safer shores. However, even their resolve appears tinged with hesitation, raising questions about why the Kingstowners refuse to flee.
One of the episode's humorous asides, a gem among gems, finds Ferguson engaged in a phone call with Mike amidst scratching away at a lottery ticket at a gas station, jesting, "About to become a mega fuckin' millionaire, folks!" Ironically, fortune does not smile upon him. But hypothetically, had he struck gold, how substantial a windfall would it have to be for these individuals to abandon their current lives and take flight? Perhaps, deep down, they all know instinctively that for those who tread the criminal path, such a clean break is simply not feasible.
