I'M BACK! With my new fic FBI Agent Johnson: The Fox River Eight. I've been thinking about this for a while and thought it was a good time to pu it up. Please enoy. ~Millie
Disclaimer: I don't own Prison Break
I roll over hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock hard with my hand. I lie my head back down and cover my ears with my pillow to block out the sound from not the clock but my phone. Who would be phoning me at five in the morning! Not being able to block out the ring I roll over and try to reach for it. I slide my hand over my badge and gun before actually reaching my phone. I bring it up to my face and yawn "Agent Emily Johnson speaking,"
Quickly the voice of my partner down at the burrow fills my ear. "Em, we need you at headquarters A.S.A.P."
"But I don't have to be down there for another two hours Alex," I groan as I sit up and cross my legs. "It better be damn important."
"Would you consider a mass break out important?" He asks and I quickly jump out of bed in surprise.
"How many? What prison?" I ask quickly as I try to jump into a pair of my gray suit pants.
"I'll tell you everything we know once you get here." He says sternly and I sigh. "I'll be there in half an hour." I hang up the phone with the push of a button and rush over to my closet. I pull a powder blue button up shirt from it's hanger and layer my pants matching blazer over top. Next I rush into the bathroom and com out the tangles within my curly, shoulder length brown - almost black hair. I pull my make up bag out from underneath the sink and rummage through it. I run a powder brush over my eye lids to dust them with a light gray eye shadow. I line my cat like green eyes with a black liner then run lip chap over my lips.
I run back into my bedroom running a black belt trough the loops in my pants. I slide my gun into it's holster and slip my identification badge into my pocket. I head for my apartment door while grabbing my briefcase and slipping on my most comfortable - but still professional shoes.
After driving twenty minutes down a busy Chicago street I arrive at the burrow. I rush though the main floor and to the elevator. I press down my floors button and I soon arrive in the hectic main office. People swarm the office running only of the rush of their morning coffee. I see my partner Alexander Mahone waiting for my in our office. I through my briefcase down on the chair in the office and take the coffee Mahone has gotten me. "The escapees, who were they?" I ask quickly as I sit down on my desk. Mahone passes me a stake of files and I flip through them.
I look down at a picture of a smart looking man. His eyes blue like winters ice. Caucasian. Hair short -dark brown. My eyes travel down to the name and information about the man. Michael Scofield: structural engineer. Five years for armed robbery. I close up his file and continue to sort through the rest.
Benjamin Miles Franklin: An African-American man. Eyes soft like dark chocolate, hair - next to none. And his facial hair scruffy. Former US Army. Eight years for possession of stolen goods.
John Abruzzi: An older Caucasian man. Cool grey eyes hard and emotionless. His hair line slowly disappearing. His Don of the crime family of the same name. Life without parole for conspiracy to commit murder.
Charles 'Haywire' Patoshik: Brown bug-eyed, clueless looking Caucasian. Sixty years for second-degree murder.
Fernando Sucre: Latino. Bald. Brown eyes. Five years for aggravated robbery.
David 'Tweener' Apolskis: Extremely young looking. Couldn't be more then nineteen. Soft brown eyes showing his interior fear. Brown shaggy hair and Caucasian. Five years for grand larceny.
Theodore 'T-Bag' Bagwell: Cold brown eyes lead into his dark sole. His dark hair clashes with his whiter than snow skin. His face slender - looking slightly malnourished. Life for six counts of kidnapping, rape and first degree murder.
And Lincoln Burrows: His face sculpted in an aggressive expression. His eyes a cool gray with a slight tint of blue. Obviously physically strong by his buff body type. Scheduled to die next week for the murder of President Reynold's brother.
I close up all of the files and look up at Mahone. "How long has it been since they got over the wall?"
"Eight o'clock last night," He replies as I get up off my desk and reopen the Scofield and Burrows files. "Scofield. He and Burrows are brothers," I observe. "And he's the mastermind of this whole thing," Mahone nods in approval. "I want everything they've got on him,"
Agent Lang stand at the office door and clears her throat together our attention. "The media's ready," She begins to lead the way and Mahone says. "It's your turn to speak," I go to protest but he hands me a queue-card. "I've started a speech for you - I'll speak next time,"
I quickly stop in front of a mirror to make my self presentable before Mahone leads me out to the press conference. I walk up to the podium and am blinded my stage lights and the constant flashing of cameras. I glance down at the queue-card Mahone gave me to see that it is blank. I glance to the side at it him then take a deep breath. I will have to improvise - use the first thing that comes to my mind. "I'd like to, uh, talk about John Wilkes Booth for a moment, if I could, Abraham Lincoln's killer," I take a short pause, building up my confidence.
"Twelve days. That's how long it took to find him. In his journal during this period he wrote that the shadow was his friend, the night his domain. He acknowledged that whatever neurosis drove the criminal to commit the original crime is compounded. Magnified by flight. By the sounds of dogs at his heels. Fear becomes paranoia, paranoia ultimately psychosis," I glance quickly over at Mahone who gives me a nod to continue.
"I bring this up because in one hundred and forty years, the fundamental mind of the escape man has not changed. The escape man is still human, he is still afraid, and he will stop at nothing in his attempt at flight. Fortunately for us, while our quarry has shadow and night as his ally, we have something far greater. Television. I would encourage everyone who is watching. Everyone in this country, to take a good look at these faces," I say as I point out the eight mug shots on a board off to the side. "These men, right here, are now the eight most wanted men in America."
I walk of the stage and Mahone chucks the SUV keys at me. "We're going to prison."
We drive to the outskirts of Chicago and I pull into the Fox River visiting parking. We enter the prison and meet up with the warden in the corridor. "It's a little early for the FBI to be showing up, don't you think?" Warden Henry Pope snarls.
"Look, I get it. It's still your investigation, but once those criminals cross state lines, it will become a federal matter." Alex informs him.
"Yeah well, that is not going to happen." Pope continues to huff at us rudely and the three of us stop in our tracks.
"I hope you're right. That's why I was going to suggest that we cut through any interagency politics from the outside. Full transparency," He nods in agreement. "Good. Then maybe you can tell me about Doctor Tancredi."
"There's nothing to tell." He growls while rubbing the small beads of sweat from his forehead.
"From what I'm hearing, she might have abetted the escapee's. Opened the door that allowed them to get out."
"Like I said, there's nothing to tell." He says then begins to walk off. Leaving Alex and I behind him.
"You're not being very transparent, Warden." Alex shouts.
"Look. I don't discuss my staff." Warden says angrily getting red in the face.
"Maybe you should. Because she may be the key to this thing. We need to speak with her." I suggest.
"Well right now, Mr. Mahone, Ms. Johnson, she's not going to be speaking with anyone." Pope finishes then storms off. Mahones cell phone rings and I patently wait for him to finishes then inform me on what's going on. "Okay, we're on our way." He finishes and I pull out the car keys.
"Where are we going?" I question as we walk out into the parking lot of the prison. "Six of the eight were almost apprehended at some rail road tracks not to far down the road not to long ago." He informs he as we get into the SUV.
I pull up down by the rail road tracks to see the train was stopped and the officers have dogs sniff at the carriages. I sit back in my seat and put on my black sunglasses as the sun shines through the windshield. I glance over at Mahone who if flipping through pictures of Michael Scofields torso that to covered in tattoos. "Structural engineer -Not the kind you'd expect to get that much ink." I observe and Mahone agrees.
"How long do you think it would take to get something like that done?" He asks while pointing at the tattoo.
"A hundred hours? Two hundred?" I reply trying to remember how long the small tattoo on my shoulder took then multiple it. "Tattoo artist that gave it to him must have spent a lot of time with him then." I state and Mahone pulls out his phone. "I'll find out who it was."
I notice an officer coming in the distance and I hop out of the car. Judging by his walk and attitude he is the man in charge - Mr. Bradley Bellick. "Mr. Bellick!" I holler out to him as he approaches.
"Don't talk to me," He scowls his bushy eyebrows slightly covering the tops of his eyelids.
"Fine, but it's going to make collaboration kinda hard." I shrug slightly.
"Collaboration? I've got men out here in harms way and you're giving press conferences." He huffs angrily.
"The press is a tool. They'll bring those men back quicker than bloodhounds will." I give back what he's dishing out.
"We don't need you. We're hot on these guys trail and it's just a matter of time till we nail them." He growls he hot breath piercing my face with the smell of stale donuts and cold coffee as he steps closer out of anger.
"The problem I find with being 'on a trail' is that by definition, you'll always be behind your prey." I say coolly knowing that I am right. "We'll see about that." He snarls then storms off. Almost speechless I shake my head and roll my eyes as I get back into the car.
We arrive back at the FBI field office and head back to our office to find that the tattoo artist that worked on Scofields tattoo sits. "I understand Scofield designed the tattoo, not you?" I question Sid.
"He brought the entire thing in, every element. I mean look at it, it's the freakin' Sistine Chapel. I know the guy was an engineer or whatever, but man, his skill as an artist was unbelievable." She replies in a dry voice as if she has been smoking a good percentage of her life.
"What else? What can you tell me about him as a person?" Mahone asks taking every bit of information down on a note pad.
"Uh, he was cool, you know, but uh, talk about a detail Nazi? Everything had to be perfect. Exactly as he drew it. I always sorta had the feeling that the whole thing was some sort of inside joke that only he was in on." She says as I glance down and the images of the tattoos placed on the desk.
"We have your number, right?" I ask and she nods as she stands. "We may be calling you. Thank you." She walks out and Alex quickly questions. "What was the name of that long road we took to get to the prison?"
My mind quickly flashes to the street signs I glanced up at as we drove to the prison Fitz - nope - Percy - nope - "It was English street."
"And out in front of the prison, the two streets that intersect it?" He asks.
"Fitz, and Percy. Why? Clue me in here buddy." Mahone slides me a photo one of a section of Scofields tattoos. I glance over it to see - written clearly - English, Fitz and Percy.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He asks as I look over some other tattoos. "If you are thinking, Scofields tattoos are his who escape plan from prison and his get away while out. We're thinking the same thing," He nods and I run my fingers through my hair messily. "So what do we do next?"
"Scofields apartment would be a good place to start." He says while putting on his sunglasses.
"I'll stay here and look over the tats see if can give us a clue of where it might be leading them next." Once Alex leaves I get straight to work, pinning the tattoo photographs onto the wall. I walk up to one point of the tattoo and focus in on a certain point that says 'Sweitzer Allen,' along with a series of numbers. I grab the report on the past cell of Michael Scofield and run my finger over the page until I find the information I need: Schweitzer the plumbing company made the toilet Scofield took off to get out of the cell. Allen bolt was the fitting.
"It's all here, isn't it? It's amazing," I say in awe. I walk over to the pictures again and focus in on another point that says: Ripe Chance Woods. I go over to the computer and type Ripe Chance Woods into the search engine. It comes up with nothing. There is knock at the door and I look up to see my secretary.
"DOC's moving on a storage facility in Oswego." She informs me then goes back and sits down at her desk. I quickly jot down Ripe Wood Chance in my notebook that I shove in my back pocket before heading out to the car.
I arrive quickly on the scene to see that Mahone had beat me there. He joins me at my vehicle and Bellick soon approaches us. "This is my call here, smart guy. Now back the hell off." He growls as he struts by, shot gun in hand. Mahone and I get into my SUV that is positioned to face the storage unit the DOC's have surrounded.
I hand Mahone my note book and he reads it over. "They're coming back with nothing. No place by that name anywhere in this country. Or any other country for that matter." I inform him as I lean back in the seat. We watch as the storage unit is opened and it is empty. Mahone opens the door as Bellick approaches and Bellick slams it shut. "Not one word."
Mahone quickly exit's the car as another CO walks buy and just as quickly hops back in. "Bring up the census of this county. Far back as it goes," He demands and I pull out my PDA and hand it to him. He studies the census for a few seconds then practically yells. "We gotta to go to the cemetery. Now."
I turn the key in the ignition and press on the gas. I speed down the dirt roads and soon arrive in the towns cemetery. We both get out of the car and my attention is quickly drawn to a dug up grave. Alex and I approach it cautiously to see that it is empty. I look up to see that the stone is engraved 'R.I.P. E Chance Woods.'I point it out to Alex who is some what off to the side spinning is pen back together. I kneel down to examinee the hole. I'm about to climb down into the hole when I here rustling in the leaves off to my left. I draw my gun from the holster and look over my shoulder to see that Alex has done the same.
We quickly move through the brush fallowing the movement ahead. We quickly come to a train line and look up and down it. Mahone leads the way up the tracks and into town. We push our way through crowds of people scanning there faces for any of the eight. I feel a hand grasp my elbow and look back at Alex. "We lots 'em." He says swiftly while putting his gun back in his holster. I slip my back by my hip and he begins to lead the way back to the cemetery. I go to fallow but stop and glance around me when I feel like I am being watched. Not seeing anyone looking at me I shake of the feeling and head back to the car.
We arrive back at the burrow and take a quick elevator ride up to the still rushed room. "DOC's still doing a sweep of Oswego, but the guys have basically vanished." Agent Ives informs us at we enter the main office.
"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Mr Ives." Mahone says sternly as we head for our office.
"I don't know how you can be so confident. It's not like these guys left a map where they're going." Ives says as he fallows.
"Actually, that's exactly what they did," I correct him as I gesture the photos of the tattoos I pinned to the wall along with additional information. "Scofield had the entire thing on his body. How to get out of that prison, how to disappear afterward. It's all there," I say as I sit down at my desk. "I promise you that it's only a matter of time before we know everything that is in Scofield's head. Where he plans to run to, how he plans to get there. So, when the time comes that he does get there. We'll be waiting for him and his brother."