Post by Audio Pineapple on Feb 27, 2007 21:23:54 GMT 1
Set during mid season one
Abruzzi unconsciously twitched his fingers, not noticing that the nervous tick that he had buried decades before was beginning to resurface and take control over him again. All he could think was that he still had his reputation, even if it was slipping away faster than he could have ever imagined.
He had been on top for so long; almost been the boss of the prison, not everyone would do what he demanded of them but the leaders of the gangs knew not to come up with a plan that he wouldn’t approve of and it was rare that he would come across a lone inmate who was willing to stand up to him. The last one who had tried had accidentally had his neck broken by one of his cronies; they had only been supposed to hurt him but when someone came at John Abruzzi with a knife, they paid the price for the stupidity.
Now he was sitting in the yard, watching as his old collection, his supposed friends, crowded around their new commander.
“Makes me sick,” he muttered the words to himself, jumping slightly when he heard Michael replying nonchalantly behind him.
“What does John?”
A smile spread across Abruzzi’s lips when an image flashed through his mind, the desire to grab Michael, link his hands around his throat and begin to push his thumbs down; kicking him a few times to force his submission before the final breath trickled away but the beautiful image was shattered when he heard Michael asking him again.
“None of your business,” he knew that he’d have to tell the truth soon, say that he no longer had access to prison industries, let alone to the plane that was going to get them to freedom but he wanted to hold off the embarrassment for as long as possible.
“You’re twitching,” Abruzzi looked down to his hand, saw his fingers twitching and he made a conscious effort to hold them still, feeling the anger boiling in his stomach even further at the realization that Michael had noticed.
“What happened?”
“We don’t have PI anymore,” he turned around, seeing the fear flash through Michael’s usually composed eyes, feeling sickly excited about finally wielding the power.
“Did they find out about the escape?”
“No; but you wouldn’t give me the information, so it’s over.”
“Information?”
“You should have just told me where he was…”
“But why did we lose PI?”
The anger felt worse and he stopped the effort to force his fingers to stop, letting them flick; “because everyone thinks that I’m weak because I can’t get the information. I’m an exile.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Michael looked scared, running a hand over his forehead, his eyes darting to the other members of the team, scattered around the yard and Abruzzi began to walk away, knowing that if he had to spend one more moment there he would erupt.
“No fucking kidding.”
Abruzzi unconsciously twitched his fingers, not noticing that the nervous tick that he had buried decades before was beginning to resurface and take control over him again. All he could think was that he still had his reputation, even if it was slipping away faster than he could have ever imagined.
He had been on top for so long; almost been the boss of the prison, not everyone would do what he demanded of them but the leaders of the gangs knew not to come up with a plan that he wouldn’t approve of and it was rare that he would come across a lone inmate who was willing to stand up to him. The last one who had tried had accidentally had his neck broken by one of his cronies; they had only been supposed to hurt him but when someone came at John Abruzzi with a knife, they paid the price for the stupidity.
Now he was sitting in the yard, watching as his old collection, his supposed friends, crowded around their new commander.
“Makes me sick,” he muttered the words to himself, jumping slightly when he heard Michael replying nonchalantly behind him.
“What does John?”
A smile spread across Abruzzi’s lips when an image flashed through his mind, the desire to grab Michael, link his hands around his throat and begin to push his thumbs down; kicking him a few times to force his submission before the final breath trickled away but the beautiful image was shattered when he heard Michael asking him again.
“None of your business,” he knew that he’d have to tell the truth soon, say that he no longer had access to prison industries, let alone to the plane that was going to get them to freedom but he wanted to hold off the embarrassment for as long as possible.
“You’re twitching,” Abruzzi looked down to his hand, saw his fingers twitching and he made a conscious effort to hold them still, feeling the anger boiling in his stomach even further at the realization that Michael had noticed.
“What happened?”
“We don’t have PI anymore,” he turned around, seeing the fear flash through Michael’s usually composed eyes, feeling sickly excited about finally wielding the power.
“Did they find out about the escape?”
“No; but you wouldn’t give me the information, so it’s over.”
“Information?”
“You should have just told me where he was…”
“But why did we lose PI?”
The anger felt worse and he stopped the effort to force his fingers to stop, letting them flick; “because everyone thinks that I’m weak because I can’t get the information. I’m an exile.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Michael looked scared, running a hand over his forehead, his eyes darting to the other members of the team, scattered around the yard and Abruzzi began to walk away, knowing that if he had to spend one more moment there he would erupt.
“No fucking kidding.”
