Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

We don't want anybody to know what we're after.
Hey, you have to believe in miracles if you want them to happen.
- [Big John] Let's see if it fits. - Oh my...
I'd try and be different, and I'm trying to be different.
- Oh fuck! - [tires screeching]
- [Kie] What the hell? - [Pope] Shit.
[train horn blaring]
There you go. That's what I'm talking about.
- [Topper] Y'all coming? - [Kie] We got to go.
I got one of my students with me.
And you found your father.
- I'm sure we'll be fine. - Pope, we gotta go.
I bet you Topper has a way to transport the cross.
We just find out it's... it's gonna be in Wilmington tonight.
[grunts, groans]
If I go faster, that's gonna draw attention.
- [Kie] J! - I know. I know.
If I'm gonna be accused of being a thief, might as well get something out of it.
'cause he was the sole survivor of the San Jose fire.
Hey, sharpen up.
Come on.
They're definitely fencing that shit off as we speak.
Untraceable, huh?
What's he gonna do?
- Oh my God. - [Cleo] Oh my God, what?
They're gonna arrest him. We can't leave him behind.
[Topper] Are you good?
The is our car!
They're not gonna think some dude in flip-flops is a part of a robbery.
Figured out a way to get in without a key card?
What is going on?
[chuckles] Oh.
You put me in a tough spot. I know I said I'd do anything but...
With a little help.
Tough how?
[panting] Come on.
[clears throat]
Me and Pope will go look for it and send a signal once we find it.
- Help me get this open. - [both grunt]
[Big John] This is it, my boy. There is blood on the tracks. [cheers]
and he just kept saying, "My thing, this is my thing."
- Four or five kids in a Dodge Ram. - [all] Go!
Please, we don't have a plan B
- [Big John sobs] - [John B] What is this?
- He's just like his father. - [Anna] Don't go there.
Know what? We don't have time for this. Get on.
Charleston Museum, eh?
- Do we actually have a plan right now? - Think we do.
- Shit. - [Pope] That can't be good.
That was trucking, dude. Oh Jesus. Oh God.
We are gonna prevaricate our way out of a pickle, son.