Hello, hello, hello! I have not posted in probably about 5 years but, I felt I had to finally get this story out into the world! So please enjoy the last installment of Riley's story. If you've read my other works, this is the 5th story in the series; if you haven't read them, feel free to read this one on its own or go back and read the others ;). Regardless, please enjoy and let me know what you guys think! As always, give a like, follow, or comment if you want more! I'll probably be updating on a weekly basis.

PS this beginning quote is just something I feel like really fits Riley.

And if I could tell you one thing

It would be:

You are never as broken as you think you are.

Sure, you have a couple of scars,

and a couple of bad memories,

but then again

all great heroes do.

-LTN

The constant slapping of ill-fitted shoes and the clanking of chains echo around the narrow corridor. This is the last time… the man tells himself. He promised we won't have to deal with this anymore after this. He finds himself smiling as the guards steadily lead him through the hallway and into the large visitation room filled with unknown, unsuspecting people.

As the man goes to sit down at his stall, one of the guards shoves him roughly into the hard, plastic chair. Shaking his head disapprovingly, the man anxiously repositions in his chair, hoping his visitor arrives like promised. A man appears from the left side of the prisoner's stall on the opposite side of the glass. A quick look in the visitor's eyes tells a nervous, but excited story.

The visitor, shifting uneasily in his seat, asks "How are you, Mr. Hill?"

"I am alright," the prisoner replies. With a sideways glance at the guards on either side of him, he continues, "Have you done what God asked of you?"

The visitor nods. "Yes and I built that clock you've, ummm you've always wanted." He inconspicuously skims his hand over his right coat pocket, indicating the presence of the item to his companion.

"Marvelous! This will be grand! Exciting! Everyone will remember you after this." The visitor perks up and grows more confident with Hill's declaration. "Now tell me, how long did it take you to build it? You were always crafty with hands-on things."

"It uhhh took about… 10 minutes?"

"Hmmm are you sure about that?" Mr. Hill inquires smoothly. "It seems like something that should be done in more like 15 minutes. Don't you think?"

"Yeah I suppose so Mr. Hill. It did take around 15 minutes; how stupid of me to forget that."

"Don't worry about it Peters, you still have to install it. Remember where it goes; right in the middle of the mantle above the fireplace in my living room. Don't put it anywhere else, understand me?"

"Yes, I understand you, sir."

Mr. Hill nods slowly and takes a quick glance at the clock. 10:05…it's 10:05 now…you only have one chance here, don't mess it up. Turning back to his visitor, the inmate says, "Well it was great seeing you again, old friend. I hope the clock works well for you; just don't forget where to put it. You'll be unforgettable."

"I won't, sir. I promise." With that said, the visitor stands and exits the stall, leaving the prisoner alone.

Mr. Hill stands and allows the guards to guide him out of the visitation room. We have 15 minutes…let's make them count. Walking back through the hallway, the prisoner finds they are alone. Before anyone else can arrive he swings one elbow up to hit the guard on his left in the face.

The guard falls as the other exclaims, "Hey! What do you think you're…"

Mr. Hill throws his handcuffed fists at the man sending him to the floor before he can finish his statement. While on the ground, the second guard's keys are snatched and used to un-cuff the prisoner. He rubs his wrists, grateful for the freedom, and bends down to take the cell keys. As the first guard sits up to yell, Mr. Hill kicks down at his head. Blood flows into a puddle around the guard's cranium. Just for security, the prisoner smashes down on the second man's throat, ensuring he will not get up and yell for help.

Keys in hand, the man saunters down the dingy prison corridor. Left turn, right turn, right turn, glance at the clock. It's been seven minutes. I have to get moving! Mr. Hill starts to walk as fast as his limp will allow him down each hallway until his speed turns into an awkward run as his sense of urgency increases.

Finally, cell 587 comes into view. A quick glance down the passageway tells the prisoner it's safe to retrieve his comrade. It takes a few too many seconds for the man to pick the correct key from the large ring. The trapped prisoner bangs on the cell door, "come on, you fool! An incompetent monkey could work faster than you!"

A sudden click and the door slides open smoothly. The first escapee twirls the ring of keys around his finger as he waits for his partner to get out. "Incompetent monkey, aye? I'll have to remember that one for when you mess up for two seconds!" A light feeling crosses over the men and shows the strong bond they have developed over their time spent together in this hellish place.

Stepping outside the cell, the bright blonde-haired man feels an invigorating rush of freedom. He takes a deep breath as his lungs expand and every nerve in his body comes out of its dormant state and prepares for action. His esteem and prowess show as he stands straighter and raises his chin with dignity. He has waited so long for this moment; this is the perfect time, the perfect place, and with the perfect accomplice. This man is more competent than any I've ever had. I like him. He will do well by my side.

With conviction, the newest escapee says, "You told him fifteen minutes, correct?"

"Of course I did! I wouldn't blow this; you know how much this means to me. To both of us. I want what is mine and you want what is yours. It seems our paths cross and we cannot accomplish these tasks without each other. I'm in this plan whole-heartedly, sir."

"Very good, Mr. Hill. I greatly appreciate your loyalty and enthusiasm. Now, how long has it been?"

"About eleven to twelve minutes. We have to get going if we want to be at the right place at the right time."

The blonde man nods and allows his partner to lead him through the cryptic maze of this prison. An increase of guards is apparent as the pair works their way back toward the visitation area. They must have found the guards I took the keys from. No matter. They are within the blast zone there. A devious smile spreads across his face. The more the merrier.

The duo comes to a stop near a water closet, four turns away from the fallen guards. They both look up at the clock on the wall above them. It's been fourteen minutes. A mutual nod is followed by the sudden, spontaneous crouch of both escapees. They make themselves small, unnoticeable, and unsusceptible to an attack.

The man is led out of the conference room by a security guard who doesn't give him more than a half glance. No one ever notices me. After a series of hallways and locked doors, the visitor finds himself once again in the lobby he first entered the facility in. The security guard disappears without a word.

With a smirk, the visitor glances down at his watch. It reads 10:10. Okay, I just need to kill about 10 more minutes. He looks around the lobby and sees a couple dozen people, visitors and correctional officers alike, going about their own business. Visitors file in through the entrance and approach the prison staff to visit their family and friends behind bars.

No one ever visited me like this. No one cares enough to pay attention to me even now that I'm out of prison. He walks to the opposite end of the room, slowly taking his time, as he feels the object in his pocket. They'll know me after this though. Everyone will know who I am after I pull this off, God will make sure they know. He's the only one who has ever taken an interest in me. I love that he has so much interest in my work. I can't wait to make him proud.

Another glance at his watch tells the man it's 10:16. Four more minutes. They like to be precise. He glances over at the center of the room where the administrative staff welcome visitors and direct them to where they need to go. Beyond this square of helpful greeters, the concrete wall with the prison's official name stares back at this particular visitor. That's the spot. The center and as close to the cells as I can get now.

A long meander around the perimeter of the lobby and the man has used up another three minutes. It's time. He moves over to the center of the wall and looks out at the people in the lobby. Checking his watch for the final time, he sees 10:20. The man pulls out the bomb from its position beneath his shirt and holds it. No one bats an eye. This will show them. I will be remembered. The man hits the detonator.

Bricks fly. Glass breaks. An explosion makes the mens' ears pop but they stay down in their crouched positions, withstanding the force of the blast. As the debris settles, the men walk around the corner to stand and look around at what used to be the walls holding them in from the outside world. Cries of pain and anguish fill the air. Begging and pleading surround the men; they cherish the moment of power and fullness as they look for the quickest way to exit the destroyed building.

Sirens sound and cell doors clang open. More prisoners begin to spring free from their entrapments. The sound of police sirens grows increasingly louder and the original escapees realize they need to get out now to make it out at all. Crossing the rough terrain of smoking debris and rubble, a thought occurs to Mr. Hill.

"What are we going to do about our clothes?" he asks as they walk a little faster. "People are going to get suspicious about two men in prison outfits. Not to mention this will be all over the news! People will be looking for us and we are making it too easy!"

"You're right, Hill." The blonde man looks over at his partner. "I guess we will have to get some new apparel…We might have to do something…illegal." He says with a sly wink.

A deep-throated chuckle erupts from the other man, "after we follow through with all of this, theft will be the last thing the police will want us for." The authority figure gives this man a friendly slap on the back as they continue their exodus.

Rubble turns to coarse grass beneath their feet as they happen upon the front lawn. A park across the street seems the ideal place to go as the men see police cars coming a few blocks away. The chaos limits the traffic, making the pair's escape even easier. A relatively forested area is to the right of the footpath leading into the park and the men head toward it for cover. Police cars, sirens blaring, pass them on route to the prison. Several prisoners can be seen scurrying out of the ruins like ants escaping a farm designed for the school science fair.

Minutes pass before the men realize they need to keep moving before the police think to look for the escaping prisoners. Journeying through the trees was the easy part. Finding where to go next was more difficult. On the other end of the park, small businesses lined the streets. Any one of them would be an ideal place to borrow a few items from but the men won't substitute for anything mediocre; they need the perfect place. After checking each store for security measures and appropriate merchandise, they decide the perfect place should be the second store on the right of the park entrance.

Mr. Hill watches for potential witnesses while his partner ruptures the glass of the store window with a swift, powerful kick. Loud, obnoxious sirens come from within the building as the pair steps through shattered pieces of glass. The fragile barrier stood no chance against these ruthless fugitives. Realizing the urgency and rush of the moment, each man goes his own way to find clothing. In no time flat, the pair meet up at the window with their new identities and slip into the darkness of the night.