Michael Scofield sliced expertly through the frozen earth surrounding Fox River State Penitentiary with the shovel he was gripping and kept his alert eyes fixed on the ground. He watched his own breath - visible in the freezing morning air - as he addressed the group of men working around him.
'It's tonight,' he murmured, 'We go tonight.'
The five inmates, who in reality were listening intently, all wore practiced expressions of indifference, though some more convincing than others.
'Are you sure, Fish?' Fernando Sucre, Michael's cellmate, hissed nervously under his breath. Of all the convicts in their exclusive group, Sucre's complexion had taken on the most alarming tone, between chalk white and the colour of concrete.
'I'm sure,' Michael insisted, 'Everything-'
He broke off as a CO of the prison appeared from behind one of the buildings right next to the patch of land that the convicts were digging.
'Back to work, Scofield,' the guard barked as he met Michael's piercing blue gaze, but he continued to walk leisurely in the direction he was headed, and had soon passed by the men completely.
'Everything's planned,' Michael continued, 'Right down to the last second, if everything stays on schedule.'
'But with your track record, Pretty,' Theodore 'T-Bag' Bagwell cut in scathingly, resting an elbow on his shovel and putting the other hand to his hip in the way he was prone to doing, 'We'd better not bet on it, huh?'
A smirk crept onto Michael's face as he took in T-Bag's mocking expression and he slowly shook his head.
'This time you can bet as much as you want on it, I promise,' he assured them, still smiling.
As Michael followed his fellow inmates back inside the prison from the yard he heard a quiet but urgent voice behind him, and a hand caught his arm. He slowed his pace, allowing John Abruzzi to catch up with him.
'Everything's planned,' Michael repeated for Abruzzi's benefit, 'We're good.'
'No,' Abruzzi shook his head, 'We're not good.'
Michael's jaw tightened, but he said nothing as they passed by two prison guards, manning the front door of A-block, the wing they inhabited at Fox River.
'What do you mean we're not good?' He demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.
'I need a favour from you, Michael,' the older man replied.
Michael saw that Abruzzi's face was not as deathly white as Sucre's had been, but there was a noticeable pallor about him.
'I don't have anything to give you, John.'
'You have that brain of yours, and you've got that hole in the wall of your cell,' Abruzzi said softly, as though Michael might have forgotten, 'And when I think what might happen if you don't do this little favour for me, Michael, well it makes my skin crawl. I mean, you know I need you, but imagine if there just wasn't enough room for your brother on that plane when we get on the other side of that wall out there.'
Michael suppressed a sigh and cast his eyes around as they began to walk together up the metal staircase. These threats that Abruzzi and T-Bag especially liked to occasionally dangle in front of his face were idle, but when it came to his brother, Michael wasn't taking any chances.
'What is it that you want?' He asked, stopping outside his cell and turning to face Abruzzi, resting his back on the bars behind him.
'All I need you to do is make room for one more body to get out of here alive with us tonight.'
Michael let out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head.
'You said it yourself: there's no room for everyone on that plane as it is. One more body is out of the question, alive or not.'
'I know a guy,' Abruzzi said, leaning in so that Michael wouldn't have to strain to hear him.
'A guy?' Michael repeated dryly, raising his eyebrows. He was willing to bet that John Abruzzi knew every guy worth knowing.
'Don't be smart with me, just be smart, all right?' Abruzzi muttered, 'All I know is that this guy is the kind of guy who has everything he could ever want, and he's lost something. Something that he wants back.'
'And what is that?'
'His daughter.'
'Wait, wait, Papi,' Sucre said, pacing the small cell he shared with Michael and distractedly wringing his hands, 'I thought you said that everything was all planned. Down to the last second, that's what you said!'
'It was,' Michael replied from the bottom bunk, his calm, deep voice causing Sucre's to seem even more agitated and shrill, 'It still can be. We just have to make a few changes.'
At that moment, the imposing form of Benjamin Miles 'C-Note' Franklin rounded the corner of Michael and Sucre's cell and inconspicuously installed himself on the wall opposite Michael's bunk, folding his arms and resting one foot on the wall behind him.
'What's this T-Bag's spittin' about the plan being off?' He demanded.
Michael swung his legs onto the floor and stood up to join the other two.
'The plan isn't off,' he told C-Note, 'We're just making a few additions to the guest list.'
'Who?' C-Note wanted to know, his mouth set in a grim line.
'At noon today Fox River are expecting a new arrival. The powers that be are moving a prisoner across state lines and stopping here overnight. They're keeping her downstairs in the old solitary cells, and we're taking her with us.'
'Her?' C-Note repeated.
Michael nodded in silence as he crossed to the open door of the cell. C-Note and Sucre joined him as he rested his arms on the uniform yellow safety bar on the edge of the open second floor and looked out past groups of convicts who would settle where they were for as long as they could until they were counted and locked up again until lunch.
'They're bringing a woman to an all male, top security prison?' C-Note asked, his voice still sounding bemused.
'She's the daughter of some guy that Abruzzi knows,' Sucre cut in sarcastically, 'And you just know that he's going to make some serious dinero on this if it works out.'
'Or he might just keep his legs,' Michael added for the sake of fairness, as his sharp eyes darted around the prison, taking in everything in the way that only he could.
'And from what I hear,' he added, 'The best place for this woman is an all male, top security prison.'
From his observation spot on the balcony, Michael could see that the divide between the different races would be clear to even the most innocent of fresh meat in the place, but, for once, there was a begrudging peace among the separate groups inside Fox River and that, he realised, would have to change.
'We need a lock down,' he said out loud, more to himself than to the two men standing either side of him. C-Note and Sucre looked at each other hesitantly.
'You know what happened last time we tried that,' Sucre muttered. After all, who could forget the riot?
Michael turned to C-Note who hadn't disputed the idea, but didn't look thrilled about it either.
'Can you get it done?' Michael pressed.
'Yeah, man, I can get it done.'
'Then get it done, but not before twelve.'
