Hey guys!
I haven't written a fanfic in a while, I don't really know why though...But I'm back now! So... I should probably tell you a little about what you should expect from this here story. Well firstly, you should know... that I'm a little twisted in the brain, I'm one of those types of people who LOVE seeing bad things happen to their favourite character. So heads up! If you're looking for all that lovey fluffy goodness, you've came to the wrong place amigo! And you may also have came to the wrong place if you don't like torture... lots and lots of torture. Mental and physical torture is what I'm all about, don't like it? Don't read it. Simple. But if you're sick and twisted like me, welcome! Mi casa es tu casa... let the story begin.
DISCLAIMER: I own (sadly) non of the following characters :(
"Papi, you don't understand we have to go! Now! My Maricruz is waiting for me man!" sucre said, one hand already on the cable leading out of the infirmary window which connected to the wall, the very wall that separated the cons from imprisonment and freedom. "MICHAEL!" The Puerto Rican now spoke with more assertiveness in his voice, "WE GOTTA GO!" Michael snapped out of his grieving pause over his companion, Charles Westmorland, and turned to face, who he'd now call, his best friend. "Go sucre! Go! I'll be right behind you!" Sucre nodded his head and obliged to Michael's command, now standing on the window ledge, Both hands on the cable, about to shuffle his way across, like a koala bear on a branch of a tree. "Good luck cuz" Fernando's larger cousin loudly whispered as sucre left the walls of the infirmary.
"Ok, Manche, you go next" Michael said, calmness restored in his voice. The fat prisoner looked out of the now barless window, doubt flooding his mind, "uh no, n-no I think you better had go first... just incase." Without hesitation Michael sprang out of the window and onto the cable, and just when he was about half way across, blinding white lights lit up the prison grounds and screeching alarms began to sound. Manche started to panic when the sounds of dogs barking and police yelling could be heard growing closer and closer to the escaping convicts, he shook his chubby face and leaned out of the window, unaware of the danger he was about to put himself and Michael Scofield in. With Scofield still on the other end of the cable, the fat con jumped onto the thick wire, allowing all of weight to rely on it, unfortunately the weight was too much for the cable to handle and came away from the wall with little resistance, making Manche plunge to the prison's ground and Michael's body being swung into the wall.
"MICHAEL! GRAB MY HAND MICHAEL! MICHAEL! MICHAELLL" the brother screamed, his heart in his mouth and his stomach in his throat, his long strong arm reached down, his finger tips just scraping those of Michael's. Michael was never the strong one out of the two, emotionally and mentally, yes, but definitely not physically, gym class was his worst enemy back in school, but he had come too far now, too far for his muscles to let him down, so with all the streangth left in his body, Michael heaved himself up the wall a couple more inches, just enough for his stronger older brother to wrap his huge hand around his wrist and pull him up to the top of the wall. "Thanks" Michael breathed out, "don't mention it" Lincon replied, already shuffling his way down the wall.
Michael waited until Lincoln was fully down the wall for himself to start working his way down. He grabbed a hold of the post attached to the wall and bought his left leg further down, not realising that his ankle was completely wrapped loosely in barbed wire, he then placed his right leg further down the wall and was about to repeat his steps when he felt a sudden fiery pain in his ankle, the suddenness came as a shock to Michael, causing both hands to loose their grip on the post keeping him upright. His body fell completely downwards, he would have hit the ground head first if it wasn't for the barbed wire keeping him dangling by the ankle, "AHHHH" Michael could feel every little spike around his ankle dig deeper and deeper into his skin, almost completely shredding his ankle, the last time he experienced pain this bad was when he had his back pushed up against that burning pipe back in the prison.
"MICHAEL" the Puerto Rican was the first to notice the dilemma that his friend had gotten himself into, "Dios mío papi, what you got yourself into?" Michael's not too bright friend then wrapped his arms under Michael's shoulders and tried to pull his friend down, but only made the barbed wire around his ankle scrape at his bones more, "ahhhh! No! Sucre! STOP!" Sucre immediately let go of his friend and raised his hands up in surrender. At this point Lincoln too was at the scene, "Michael?" Lincoln paused when he looked up at his baby brother's ankle, "oh my god, Michael what happened?" Sucre interrupted, "he-he got his leg wrapped in the barbed wire, I tried to pull him down but I don't think it worked too well" Lincoln gave a little glare at the Puerto Rican and then turned back to Michael, "ok Michael here's what's gonna happen, I'm gonna climb up the wall and try to un-tangle the wire around your ankle, whilst sucre here..." his eyes converted to the Spanish speaking friend, "is gonna push your body up so that the wire loosens a bit" sucre nodded, showing he understood Lincon's plan.
"Ok, sucre take your top off" Lincoln said as the began to climb up the wall. "W-wait what?" He replied, "what you want me to take my top off for?!" Confusion was laced in his voice, once near the top of the wall Lincoln stopped and looked down at sucre, "just take it off and give it to Michael to bite down on" the Puerto Rican was still obviously confused, Lincoln huffed, starting to get agitated by his friends dimness, "it will stop him screaming loudly... do it!" Sucre shrugged and began to take his top off whilst mumbling to himself, "sure sure I take my top of because for some reason nobody else is capable of doing it" Michael would have almost managed to give a little laugh at his comical friend, if it wasn't for the panic and pain he was in at that moment of course, before he knew it, his friends sweaty t-shirt was stuffed in his mouth, "sorry Papi, I get all sweaty when I'm nervous" Lincoln then barked, "sucre! Come on hurry up!" "Ok ok" sucre surrendered and pushed scofield up the wall by his shoulders, whilst Lincoln began to untie his brother. "You know papi, you are a lot heavier than you look," he let a small grunt slip, "uh maybe it's because of all that ink in your body."
About a minute had past and sucre's arms were beginning to treble under michaels weight and sweat began to run down his head, "ugh, how are we doing up there Lincoln?" His voice shaked in time with his legs. "Done" the larger brother said, rather relieved. "Ok ok, I got you Papi, I got you" sucre heaved out as he carefully lowered his friend to the ground, "Michael can you stand?" His brother asked after landing with a thump on the ground next to the genius. Michael spat out sucre's shirt and shook his head, the pain was too much for him to even speak right now. "Uh papi?" Sure asked, addressing Lincon, "am I allowed to put my shirt back on now?" Lincoln kept a straight face, "no" sucre's body slouched, "ugh what do I gotta do now?" Lincoln's attention was fixed on pulling up the bottom of Michael's pants, "rip it in half and give it to me, we need to stop the wound from bleeding" sucre nodded and did as he was told.
About five minutes later Michael's leg had been bandaged by his brother and friend, "ok Michael, wrap your arm around my neck, and the other around sucre's" both sucre and Lincoln looked at Michael questioningly when there was no reply from him, "Michael?" Lincoln asked, obviously concerned about his brother, who's face was as pale as the morning sky in January and eyes were closed, "oh no! PAPI! Is he dead?! Lincoln!? Is he dead!?" Lincoln had two fingers pressed against Michael's neck, and shook his head, "no he still has a steady pulse, he's just unconscious" with no time to spare Lincoln threw his brother over his shoulder and began to run into the forest, towards fitz street, followed by their Puerto Rican friend.
"Hurry!" Lincoln yelled at sucre, "hey Lincoln?" The Puerto Rican asked rather breathlessly, "don't you think it's kinda weird that no cops have showed up and busted our asses yet?" Lincoln didn't slow down, "why? you complaining?", "no, no I just think it's a little strange that we were stood just on the other side of the wall for over ten minutes without being caught" Lincoln just continued to soldier on, "well I guess we're just lucky, or maybe the cops are just too busy tryna catch t-bag, tweener, c-note, abruzzi and that nut job" sucre grew more calm, since what Lincoln said completely made sense. Maybe if Michael was still conscious he might have been able to see that something was indeed wrong, even if they were after the other 5 convicts, wouldn't have the dogs sniffed out the blood by now? And surely they would have seen the snapped cable that led them over the wall? So shouldn't the point they had stayed in for 10 minutes already be a crime scene by now?
If only Michael wasn't unconscious, maybe he would have seen what was coming next...but then again, who could have predicted such a thing?
To be continued...
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