Third person pov
Blake and Miguel traded kicks and punches as they practiced sparring in his backyard. They're both evenly matched until Miguel manages to outsmart Blake with a fake out and proceeds to sweep Blake's legs, sending the boy to the ground.
Miguel laughs and walks up to his defeated foe.
"Alright, I think that's enough for now," Blake remarks out of breath.
Miguel grins and offers a hand to his friend.
"Hawk and I made a bet that you wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. That's the second time I've gotten you with that fake out. I guess I owe him 5 bucks," Miguel teases.
Blake playfully scoffs and rolls his eyes.
"Guess I'll get to hear Walter rub it in tomorrow at the dojo," Blake says slightly annoyed.
Both of them look up in the sky as rain begins to fall. In a matter of seconds, it begins to storm and pour. The winds are so strong that Blake has to yell to even hear himself.
"LETS GET INSIDE!" Blake suggests cupping his hands around his mouth.
However, when he looks over to Miguel about to turn and follow him into the house, his upper body suddenly lurches backward and a loud *SNAP* echoes from Miguel's back that dwarfs the howling storm.
"MIGUEL NO!" Blake cries in terror as the sudden movement leaves Miguel's outstretched arms touching his heels in an unnatural way.
Miguel's unnaturally bent form suddenly collapses to the soaked mud as Blake runs up only to stop and see a figure standing directly behind Miguel. Robby Keene stares with red eyes directly at Miguel's unmoving form directly on the ground before Blake hears a shriek that resembles Miguel coming from the heavens above.
"YOU SAID YOU WOULD PROTECT-protect-protect!" Miguel's voice echoes through the sky.
Blake gasps as his body springs into a sitting position. Blake leans against the wall of the 1993 Dodge Caravan and pants out of breath. Shaking in a cold sweat.
The next thing Blake notices is the car is moving. At this, Blake peaks his head over the backseat and sees Robby quietly driving along a country road.
"Nightmare?" Robby asks nonchalantly.
"What's it to you?" Blake sneers at him in a raspy voice.
Blake sees Robby roll his eyes through the mirror.
"While you were sleeping in, I got us some more stuff. A paper map along with some socks and underwear. Didn't think to buy those did you?" Robby remarks.
Blake sighs as he still attempts to calm down from his nightmare.
Blake pov
I didn't get it. How could Robby be acting so casual right now? I had done nothing but suffer about the events that took place a few days back. Part of me was relieved that Robby just so happened to be productive early this morning, but I hadn't gotten over the guilt regarding my choice to work with Robby after what he did to Miguel.
I hated Robby more than anything, but the last few days have taught me to just face facts and prioritize my own survival. However, even that seemed like a lost cause as my back only stung worse than ever and I could see that my insulin pump was below half full.
I awkwardly climb over the back seat and into the passenger seat beside Robby as he stares at the rural country road.
"Where are we even going?" I ask.
"Somewhere quiet until things calm down," Robby answers.
"I thought we were gonna hide in plain sight and let them get ahead of us. No doubt the cops have wanted border patrol to watch out for us. We'll be caught if we go anywhere near Mexico," I argue.
"Relax, we're only about an hour outside town. I'd say we stop and get a real meal while our wanted posters aren't everywhere," Robby remarks as he pulls into a 50's looking diner surrounded by grass and trees with a nearly empty parking lot.
Only 2 beat up cars are present as we pull in.
I actually find myself agreeing with Robby as my stomach painfully growls. We get in and the lady at the front warmly greets us and sits us down at a booth in the corner. We both have our hoods up.
I notice that Robby has a new hoodie. This one is a thicker half zipped dark blue with a light gray shirt underneath. He must have changed while I was still asleep.
"I could hear you tossing and turning all night," Robby says after some awkward silence.
"Fine, sorry, don't know what to tell you," I casually say not even bothering to look up from my menu.
A waitress comes and takes our order. Scrambled eggs with bacon and hash browns for me while Robby orders a stack of wheat chocolate chip pancakes.
We barely talk while we wait and it's mostly a period of awkward silence besides the swishing of ice whenever one of us takes a sip from our water glasses.
"So… where the hell are we?" I whisper.
I expected a backhanded answer, a roll of the eyes, or a snide remark, but instead, Robby pulls out the map and opens it.
"When I woke up this morning, I bought some supplies in Woodland Hills then drove west. We're about an hour outside Calabasas," Robby explains pointing to a spot on the map.
I nod and am about to ask more questions when the waitress comes with our food. We both immediately begin eating as if we'd been starved for weeks. I finish my entire plate in record time and Robby is nearly done with his.
I get up to use the restroom while leaving Robby alone at the table.
Third person pov
Robby absentmindedly eats his food in silence until the old television behind the bar catches his attention. An olive-skinned reporter with dark hair holds a microphone and speaks into the camera.
"In only 2 days, the trail has gone cold in the manhunt for Blake Murphy and Robby Keene, now dubbed "The West Valley Fugitives" and with us today are the parents of Blake Murphy," the reporter confirms before the camera pans to two middle aged individuals.
Robby recognized Noah's aunt and uncle from the few times he'd gone over to the Murphy's house with Noah along with seeing Mr. Murphy at the dealership. He'd never known them well, but they'd always been nice unlike their son. However, Robby's heartstrings we're tugged fiercely when he saw the state of the two once happy and loving parents. Mr. Murphy looked as if he hadn't slept in days and the stubble was present on his face along with the dark and heavy bags under his eyes. His brown hair looked rather disheveled compared the well combed style Robby was used to. Blake's mother, Mrs. Murphy, was a complete wreck. Tear streaks lined her facial features with fresh ones still spewing from her scarlet complexion.
"Blake sweetie, if you're watching this, please… come home to us. I know you're scared, but it's not safe out there. We'll find a way to get through this I promise just please come back to us. We're so worried, we don't even know if you're safe or alive," Mrs. Murphy begged through sobs.
Emotions swirled through Robby's veins. Sympathy for the family, remorse for their situation, and envy that Blake had people who cared so much about him while Robby had no one.
Robby's mom and dad were too caught up in their own issues to even file a missing person report on him, much less beg for him to come home on national television. However, before Robby's anger at Blake could swell, reality began to seep in.
While the people in the diner didn't really pay much attention to the TV, Robby knew Blake seeing this would cause all kinds of issues. Based on the brief moments he'd known Blake over the summer and the many times Noah had talked about him, Robby was aware that Blake was a bit of a bleeding heart when it came to people he cared about. He obviously would care about his own parents and seeing them in this state…
Robby had a hunch that the first thing Blake would do was pick up a pay phone and turn himself in. That meant real problems for Robby because Blake knew where he was and the car they'd stolen. Robby couldn't get caught, he just couldn't.
He sprung up from his seat and walked quickly to the bathroom. The gears began to turn in his head as he formulated a plan.
Robby burst the door to the bathroom open and attempted to look panicked.
"Murphy? MURPHY?!" Robby called frantically.
"What? What's going on?" Blake answered leaving the stall with the toilet flushing behind him.
Blake now looked alarmed. Perfect.
"We gotta go NOW!" Robby remarked with a sense of urgency.
"W-what?" Blake frantically asked.
"We've been made, we gotta go," Robby frantically remarked snapping us fingers.
"Don't snap your fingers at me," Blake snaps annoyed as he rapidly splashed some water on his hands before roughly wiping them on his hoodie.
"Let's go!" Robby barks and turns to run out the door with Blake trotting behind him.
Blake pov
Visions of handcuffs and a jail cell fill my brain as panicked breaths take over. I couldn't go to jail. Not today.
Robby slaps a 20 dollar bill on our table before running up to the counter, grabbing something when no one was looking and dashing for the door as I run behind him.
We get in the car and speed out of the parking lot.
"What the hell was that?!" I yell and continues to breathe rapidly.
"The waitress knew," Robby numbly lies, but he knew how to lie well.
"How did you know?" I ask with fearful eyes.
"I just knew, and she was giving us funny looks," Robby says gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.
I lean back and run a hand through my messy dark hair.
"We were this close to getting caught," I shakily remark to no one in particular.
Robby presses his lips together in a thin lie. Why did he feel bad about lying to Blake fucking Murphy of all people? They weren't friends. They didn't even like each other.
They were just stuck in this stupid little dance together and needed each other for survival.
I glance over at Robby and feel gratitude toward him for the first time. Robby could've simply left me behind in the restroom and not looked back, but he chose to come get me.
"Well, guess I owe you one… Keene," I remark staring at the road ahead of us.
"Don't worry about it," Robby answers, but not in the snarky annoyed tone I had grown used to but rather an almost kind tone.
"I need your help with something," Robby follows up as we pull over right by a lake.
"What?" I ask curiously.
Robby reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of scissors.
"Is that what you took from the counter?" I ask.
Robby simply nods and gets out of the car. He walks over to the edge of the water and gets on his knees. Robby pulls down his hood and hands my the scissors.
I knew exactly what he wanted me to do.
"Dude, I've never given anyone a haircut before. I could completely ruin your hair," I warn.
"Well, the long hair was overrated anyway. Just do your best. All of my pictures have that style so maybe cutting it will help me hide better," Robby summarizes.
"…alright, if you're sure," I say unsure and lean over his back.
I'd never given any sort of haircut to anyone in my whole life. Whether I'd scalp Robby by accident or end the day with him having random bald spots around his head I didn't know. I did my best not to let my nerves get the best of me and went to work.
I used the water for a proper reflection and did my best. It took about half an hour and a lot of holding my breath but I finally finished cutting Robby's hair .
"Ok, you can shoot me now," I remark and gulp.
Robby touches his now shorter hair tenderly. He runs a hair through it and turns to look at me with wide eyes.
Oh no…
However, his reaction catches me completely off guard.
"I'm impressed. You sure you've never considered going into hair styling?" Robby half jokes.
I sign in relief and shake my head.
"Honestly, beginners luck," I shrug.
Robby stands up.
"Cutting mine won't change anything," I remark as Robby holds the scissors up.
"Why?" Robby asks.
"It's better to let mine grow out. Shorter hair would mean my scars are more visible and that will definitely be a defining feature people will be warned to look for," I say.
Robby thinks for a moment before agreeing.
"True," Robby answers before we walk back to the car.
I slowly realized that Robby and I had managed to not only solve a task but converse without conflict for once. I still didn't like him, I never would, but for once, I was grateful not to be stuck in this alone.
"Keene, hold up," I remark when we reach the car.
Robby turns to look at me with eyebrows raised.
"I need your help with something also," I say and peel off my hoodie and shirt to reveal bloody bandages covering the gashes on my upper left shoulder blade.
Third person pov
Words could barely describe how much Tory hated her job at the Sushi restaurant. After getting expelled, she didn't have a lot of options. The customers were cynical and rude. Not to mention, her employer only hired her out of pity.
She'd never been a bullshit con artist so she didn't try the sob story approach about trying to turn her life around. She had a few hours to rest before having to go to the roller rink and she decided to grab an early dinner, but a man walked up to her.
The man had dirty blonde hair and wore a full suit with sunglasses. Tory's first guess was F.B.I., but maybe he was a detective.
"Miss Nichols," agent McCarthy pleasantly remarked and flashed his badge which stopped Tory trying to dart around him.
"What do you want? I went to see my probation officer already," Tory spits at the detective.
"I suggest you drop the attitude right now and have a seat," McCarthy remarks impatiently gesturing to the outdoor table next to the restaurant.
So, this was who Blake Murphy kept company with. Figures.
"I-I didn't do anything wrong," Tory stammers going from angry to scared.
"You're not in trouble. At least not anymore. You escaped juvie by the skin of your teeth and if you want it to stay that way, you better think about how you'll answer these questions," detective McCarthy states firmly.
Tory huffs and sits down across from him with a livid scowl. She'd already had a shitty enough day. She didn't need more police digging into her business.
"It was brought to my attention that you were friends with Blake Murphy, correct? As you know, he's a fugitive looking at major time and the faster we get him, the quicker we can all move on from this," Detective McCarthy remarks in a soothing tone.
Tory scoffs.
"So now you're supposed to be good cop? What makes you think I would know where he is? We weren't exactly best friends," Tory answers.
"I understand, but what I do need from you is everything you know about him. What makes him tick? He's a 16 year old teenager, not a criminal mastermind," the detective agent explains.
"Even if I knew, why would I tell you? It's not like I get anything out of it. We did karate together and sometimes hung out in the same clique. What more is there to know?" Tory spits annoyed.
"In my field of work, I have a lot of pull. The ability to do good, but also the ability to use leverage to get what I need. I've done my research on you Victoria," the agent confidently remakes removing his glasses.
Tory's brow furrows in curiosity.
"I know you don't come from money. Dad's a deadbeat, mom's dying of cancer, and you've got nothing except your little brother. If it weren't for your mother, you'd be employed in a prison's janitorial staff and not a Sushi restaurant,"
Tory's temper begins to flare.
"Congrats, you're research only brought you to the facts everyone ALREADY knows!" Tory spits seething.
Agent McCarthy just sits calmly as Tory snaps at him.
"And if you want things to stay that way, you'll give me details on Blake Murphy. Based on media and reports, you started that fight, correct? You also hijacked the intercom which is a crime within itself. Going through all that security footage could lead to more charges which may not turn out to be so lucky for you. Furthermore…" McCarthy responds and places two different stacks of papers on the table.
Tory picks them up and looks with wide eyes.
"One of those is if you decide to help and the other is if you choose to keep valuable information from me," the detective remarks.
"T-this is blackmail," Tory interjects.
"From a certain point of view, but… one thing you're forgetting is that the force turned a blind eye to the extent of your actions and gave you a slap on the wrist for two reasons. Your mother and your brother. They knew that sending you away leaves nobody to take care of your mom which means no suitable legal guardian for your brother. The foster care system's families are top notch… sometimes, but the other custody option is that scumbag aunt of yours. Hell, I arrested her myself when I was a young rookie officer. One of my first arrests," the agent reminisces chuckling.
Tory begins to breathe rapidly. Was this all some game to this guy? Was her fucked up family a joke?
She takes a deep breath and picks up the second stack. Her response is far more positive than the last one.
Tory looks up at the detective slightly conflicted. As tempting as this was, Blake was someone she'd come to value and she wasn't sure if she wanted to throw him under the bus.
As a man who's made a career out of reading people, detective McCarthy instantly picks up on her expressions.
"Don't think of this as a betrayal, consider it a way to return a lost boy to his crying mother and his worried sick father. The first place my officers went was his house and let's just say, they want their son back more than we do. At least if he's behind bars, they'll have access to him," the detective summarizes.
Tory sighs and rests her forehead on her palms.
"You can make this happen?" Tory remarks holding up the second stack.
"Absolutely, not only will your mother have care from the best hospital and doctors in the state of California, but her medical expenses will be covered and I'll make an exception to the fact that you are a minor who cannot gain custody of her brother. Consider it a "generous donation from the force" and nothing more," the detective swears.
"How do I know you won't screw me?" Tory asks.
"You don't, but I do have a family of my own that I'd do anything to protect. It's why I joined the force and why I wish to bring individuals like Blake Murphy and Robby Keene to justice," the detective sincerely remarks.
Tory shuts her eyes and weighs her options. She hoped Blake could understand and forgive her. She didn't have a choice and this way; her family would be taken care of.
"Alright, I'll tell you what I know," Tory relents.
Tory proceeds to explain everything that's happened since the day she met Blake. All of the interactions she can remember, Moon's party, and the fight. She left out the night Moon dumped Blake for obvious reasons, but she explained as much as she could.
"Blake was always someone who cared deeply about the members of our dojo. Kinda hated it really, but also appreciated it. Despite being diabetic, he—" Tory starts but the detective stops her.
He'd seen it in Blake's files and heard it from the officers who'd gone to Murphy's house, but now he had all the proof he needed. There was Blake's kryptonite. He couldn't survive without his insulin so Agent McCarthy would eventually force the choice of turn himself in or die from insulin shock.
"That's all I need. Thank you for your time, ma'am. I'll ensure that I hold up my end of the deal regarding your mother," the detective remarks and gets up.
The drive back to the precinct was a happy one for the detective. He'd find Murphy's doctor and ensure that he had no way of delivering his prescription. Murphy would be on a bumpy van ride to L.A. County by the end of the week if he wanted to live.
His phone begins to ring and he answers it.
"Sir, we found something on Murphy," the officer on the phone remarks.
The detective agent places his foot on the gas and heads back to the precinct.
OST: "Special Agent Mahone" Prison Break soundtrack
/9V7lC9qjSkE?feature=shared
Detective McCarthy walks into the office.
"What's the latest?" He asks the officers assigned.
"We tracked the location of his phone like you asked and we found the device in a trashcan, but no Murphy," the officer responds holding up a plastic bag with Blake's intact phone inside.
McCarthy sighs and a realization comes to him. Most teenagers would either keep their phone on them or smash it to bits, but not Murphy. He knew he'd be tracked and used that to buy himself some time. The detective's expression morphs into a sly smile.
"Oh, that kid's clever," the detective remarks.
The police officer looks surprised at the response because the members of the force had noticed that Detective McCarthy had been on edge since taking this case.
"Even with this, nine times out of ten, a fugitive will make a mistake within the first 72 hours of fleeing a crime scene," Agent McCarthy remarks with confidence.
"We've also discovered this. When the garbage truck came around the beach this morning, the driver reported bloody bandages and a torn shirt with dry blood on it. We're sending the bandages over for DNA testing to confirm, but the first responders confirm this was the shirt Blake Murphy wore the day of the fight at West Valley Highschool," the officer explains and hands another plastic bag with a crumpled black long sleeve Henley shirt that appeared to be torn and had dry blood on the back.
The detective grins.
"Looks like we found our first mistake," he tells the officer.
Authors note: we FINALLY gave Robby his haircut. No more Lord Farquad. How are you guys feeling about the Agent McCarthy storyline? Who do you think he'll seek out next?
How will Robby react to Blake's wound and how will Robby deal with the fact that he lied and hid the fact that Blake's parents were on the news?