The Ultimate Sacrifice

Title: The Ultimate Sacrifice
Author: Darkestangel
Summary: T-Bag makes a claim on his property
Author’s Website: www.darknessprevails.com
Comments: darkestangel@darknessprevails.com
Archive: Yes, to Prison Break archive, yes to others with permission
Warnings: crude language, violence, non-con
Pairing: Michael/T-bag, Michael/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: The Pilot for now but could possibly be the entire first season if I am encouraged to continue on with this saga.
Disclaimer: Prison Break belongs to 20th Century Fox and Adelstein-Parouse Productions. I am only borrowing their characters for my own personal pleasure and no permanent harm will come to them.
Author’s Notes:
1. I tend to write dark slash stories and this one is no exception so consider this as a warning.
2. This is Part IIV of the series and the NC-17 rating applied to the series as a whole.
3. I have often wondered how the show would be different if Sucre was not Michael’s cellmate. This is totally A/U and will go against the canon of the show. This could possibly turn into a series that retells the first season and the changes that will take place due to Michael’s cellie if I am encouraged through feedback.
4. The focus of this series is about the events that took place in Fox River. I have no intentions of writing about scenes that take place outside the prison. I will bring in the occasional visitor to the prison that can help to keep the plot going and explain the events that our taking place outside the prison, but don’t expect a complete retelling of all of the events that took place in season one. The whole purpose of this story is to focus on Michael, his plan, and the things that don’t go according to plan.

***************************************************
Day Two

Michael was unable to sleep his first night at Fox River because his mind constantly reviewed and catalogued visions of metal drainage grates, origami cranes, networks of pipes, and violations of his mouth by Ripper and T-Bag. Alone in the dark with nothing but the sounds of Ripper’s soft snores to keep him company, Michael ran through his intricate plan over and over again for possible snags and setbacks. It was true that Bellick had thrown him a curve ball by assigning Lankford as his cellie rather than Sucre and the prospect of being owned and used by Bagwell was down right terrifying, but at the moment Michael’s plan was on schedule. His priority was getting Abruzzi to assign him to P.I., and he anticipated that John would soon get a certain piece of information from the outside which would cause the Mob Boss to become more interested in Fox River’s newest inmate.

“Rise and shine Ladies!” an overly enthusiastic voice yelled.

The lights to the cellblock came on and men began to drag themselves out of bed. Michael looked at his watch noting that it was 6AM and watched wearily as Ripper jumped off his bunk into Michael’s view and stared. As the rapist leered suggestively, Michael wanted nothing more than to crawl up underneath the cover and melt away into oblivion, but he knew that Lincoln was counting on him. “New rule…no blow jobs before breakfast.”

Ripper couldn’t help but to laugh at Scofield’s defiant spirit, “I can live with that fish; besides, they don’t give us a whole lot of time to get down and dirty in the mornings around here, but they give us all the time in the world in the afternoons and nights.”

“Wonderful,” Michael mumbled as he sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed taking in Ripper’s naked torso which consisted of bulky intimidating muscles with scattered black hair. “I’ll live for every moment.”

Ripper rested up against the wall and watched Scofield walking over towards the sink to brush his teeth. He couldn’t help but to be amused at the college boy’s attitude, but he wasn’t sure if T-Bag would find the new fish as entertaining. “You might want to watch that tongue around T. He’s not as patient as I am.”

Michael looked back over his shoulder at the other con, “You call what you did last night being patient?” Michael shook his head in disbelief and squeezed some toothpaste on his toothbrush, “It certainly felt like you lost your patience with me.”

Ripper stepped up behind Michael’s smaller frame and put his chin on Michael’s shoulder, “I was just trying to show you a good time…nothing wrong with that is there?”

“If I have a choice I would prefer you show someone else a good time and leave me the hell alone,” Michael hotly replied shrugging Lankford’s head off his shoulder.

Rip wrapped a hulking arm around Michael’s narrow waist and rubbed Michael’s crotch with his other hand, “I think I like showing you a good time boy.”

Michael stood completely still as the other man humped his ass with his boxer-clad erection and groped him through his sweat pants, “That’s very considerate of you but…”

“Hush,” Ripper whispered in his ear. “You need to learn when to shut up fish.” Lankford closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to be inside the sweet boy’s ass but he knew that T-Bag would get the first ride, and if he were lucky, he would be the next lucky customer. “You play your cards right, and you’ll be kept safe and walk out those doors in three years without a scratch on you; most boys who look like you don’t get that lucky.”

Michael heard the bars sliding open and Ripper released him from the compromising position, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Let’s go you two lovebirds,” an officer called out as he walked past cell forty-one.

Ripper threw on his pants and shoes and reached for his grey t-shirt, “Come on fish. You heard the man.”

Michael quickly brushed his teeth and washed his face with soap and water. He turned around to find Ripper standing by the cell entrance waiting for him, “You didn’t have to wait on me.”

Ripper grabbed the same shirt he had practically choked Michael with the night before and handed it over to the younger man, “Let’s go. T will be waiting for us.”

Michael slipped on the shirt and reluctantly followed the other man out of the cell towards breakfast nothing that day two at Fox River was already going against his plan; something he suspected he might as well get use to.

****************************************

Theodore Bagwell watched in interest as Lankford and Scofield walked into the Mess. He openly took stock of Michael’s long lean body and licked his lips in appreciation, “Now that is what I call a fine specimen.” Bagwell felt Maytag tugging on his pocket as they sat at the table waiting for the other cons to join them. “That’s a fillet mignon among men.”

Maytag clenched the white pocket tightly, “He doesn’t look so special to me.”

T-Bag ignored his jealous toy, “He might just be the best thing I’ve ever seen behind these bars, and I can’t wait to sample my new property.”

“How much did you pay for him anyway?” Maytag asked angrily.

T-Bag tore his attention from the pretty fish to look at his boy, “More than I paid for you.”

“You’re so cruel sometimes, “Maytag whined. “Does this mean you’re going to drop me and leave me unprotected?”

“Boy, I told you I had two pockets, so stop you’re yammering,” T-Bag warned turning his attention back to Scofield who was picking up his tray of runny scrambled eggs, undercooked bacon, burnt toast, and warm milk. “Besides, you’re always telling me I overuse your body and that you need a rest, so consider Scofield you’re stand-in.”

“More like my replacement,” Maytag mumbled. He knew that the new fish was intruding on his territory, and he just might have to do something about it if he wanted to keep his place beside Bagwell.

Bagwell watched intently as the new fish walked towards the table. The boy was all sophistication and eloquence; naive and unworldly; much like some fine southern boys T-Bag had sampled in years past. Michael Scofield was a rarity in prison, a boy who begged to be broken and put back together again.

“Hello Pretty…did you sleep well?” T-Bag asked watching as the younger man sat in the adjacent seat. “I hope Ripper here didn’t keep you up too late.”

Michael ignored Bagwell and instead bit down on a piece of overdone cardboard toast. He scanned the room for Abruzzi but saw no sign of the man.

Bagwell might not have been the smartest of men, but he knew when someone was preoccupied. “Am I boring you here Scofield? You seem to have a lot on your mind this morning.”

“You don’t want me to answer that Theodore,” Scofield replied washing the dry toast down with the warm milk.

“You know Pretty, I’m still trying to figure out if you are really this brave and gutsy or if you’re just plum stupid,” Bagwell sneered. “Either way, I don’t have the endurance for your prissiness unlike some of my other family members.”

“I tried to tell him that you wouldn’t appreciate his attitude but he didn’t seem to care,” Ripper remarked as he bit into the rubbery bacon.

“And I told you that I don’t have time for your games,” Michael cautioned. “I’m not here to be your toy or your property, and just because you supposedly own me, it doesn’t mean I have to actually sit here and listen to your unimaginative and cliché monologue.”

T-Bag just about fell out of his seat in disbelief, “I cannot believe the audacity and disrespect coming out of your mouth Pretty. I think I just might have to wash that mouth out with some soap.”

Michael knew that he was taking chance alienating Bagwell but he needed to get out into the Yard, so he stood to leave, “You do what you need to do and I’ll do what I need to do.”

Both Bagwell and Lankford watched in amazement as the cocky and apparently suicidal Scofield walked away from the table without permission. It was Bagwell that broke the silence, “That boy is going to have to be reigned in soon and broken before I start to lose my reputation in this place. Did you even do what I told you do last night?”

“Of course I did,” Ripper began. “I fucked his mouth last night, he cried like a little girl, and I shot my load down his throat.”

Bagwell smiled with the image of Scofield sucking dick, “What did he do afterwards?”

“He just stayed in his bunk and kept quiet,” Ripper explained. “He got up this morning acting like a little prissy bitch as you’ve obviously just witnessed.”

Bagwell twisted his tongue and pulled at his goatee in thought, “Well, we are going to have to rectify this situation as soon as possible…”

******************************************

Before Michael had a chance to go out into the Yard, he was escorted to visitation to see his lawyer who so happen to be a life-long friend and the love of Lincoln’s life. Veronica Donovan had known Michael his whole life and had been Lincoln’s significant other for years until she had gone to college and Lincoln had grown progressively worse with his drug usage. Veronica had been Michael’s attorney trying her hardest to get him probation rather than jail time, and she was floored when she found out that Michael had requested to be placed in Fox River, a maximum security prison when it was only his first offense.

Michael was escorted into the visitation center and placed at a small round table where Veronica waited for him. He had decided not to tell her about his true intentions at Fox River, but now he was beginning to doubt his decision as she basically tore him a new one.
“And what if they had sent you to Taylorville or Marion and not here?” Veronica asked hotly not believing that Michael had risked so much for his brother. She had put two and two together had figured out that Michael had done all of his for Lincoln but she wasn’t sure why as of yet.
“I would be doing the same thing I’m doing here eating Jell-O and drinking Kool-Aid,” Michael joked.
Veronica looked at Michael in a mixture of awe and disbelief, “I know what you’re doing! It’s not the luck of the draw that you’re in here with Lincoln…You forget that I know you, both of you.” She smiled sadly, “You two have the most dysfunctional idea of love I’ve ever seen.” She noticed that Michael looked down in shame or embarrassment, “What, he beats you up to keep you off the streets and you end up in Fox River with him; to what, to save him?” She felt flustered and aggravated as Michael continued to ignore her, “I deserve to know. I loved him as much as you did.
Michael clenched his fist, “That’s past tense for you maybe but not for me.”
“I gave him a shot when I got back from college. Even with everything that was going on with him, I tried to make it work, but he threw it all away,” Veronica explained.
“You ever think that he was hurt that you left in the first place?”
Veronica frowned, “Don’t do this Michael. Whatever you’re doing, don’t do it. There’s a better way. I’m already appealing your case.”
Michael tensed, “I told you to leave that alone.”
Veronica continued, “I’ve gotten in touch with the Diocese about Lincoln and the Bishop may be able to help.”
“That won’t stop it. It’ll only delay it,” Michael snapped. “You want to do something? You find out who’s trying to bury him.”
Veronica shook her head sadly, “Nobody’s trying to bury Lincoln. The evidence was all there.”
“The evidence was cooked,” Michael replied assertively.
“Visitation is over,” a guard announced.
They both stood up hugging each other, “Take care of your self Michael.”
Michael continued clutching onto Veronica, “Somebody wants him dead Veronica. Something more is going on here.”
Veronica pulled away from Michael shaking her head discouragingly, “This is desperation Michael. You’re grabbing at straws.”
“Maybe, but I can’t watch him die. I won’t do that,” Michael affirmed before being escorted away.
*****************************************

Michael walked out into the Yard seeing the Purity members beckoning him over to their side of the Yard, but Michael pretended that he didn’t see the venomous look of disappointment on Bagwell’s face as he headed to the opposite side of the Yard. He turned his attention to finding Abruzzi and his thugs but instead he spotted Charles Westmoreland one of Fox River’s oldest tenured inmates sitting on the bleachers. Michael suspected that Westmoreland, who was serving a sixty-year sentence, was really a man named D.B. Cooper who had parachuted out of a plane that he had hijacked with over one-million dollars. Cooper had been later captured but the money had never been recovered. Michael hoped that he would be able to offer Cooper a way out of Fox River in return for some of the money.
Before approaching Westmoreland, Michael looked down at the grate where he had tossed the magazine from the day before and spotted the origami crane lying up against the magazine. He had dropped the crane down the infirmary grate the day before and it had made its way outside just as Michael had suspected; thus conforming that the pipe system underneath the infirmary led to the Yard. Michael smiled, looked around, and noticed that Westmoreland had been staring at him.
“You’re Charles Westmoreland right?” Michael asked as he sat down beside the older gentleman.
“Do I know you?” the older con asked
“Knew your wife before she passed,” Michael quickly replied.
Charles casually read a newspaper allowing the younger man to interfere with his peace and quiet, “You knew Marla?”
“You mean Ann?” Michael asked looking at Westmoreland in amusement.
“How’d you know her?” Charles asked while stroking his cat for comfort.
“We taught in Boston together.”
“East Farmington,” Charles corrected Michael.
“You mean West Wilmington,” Michael informed Westmoreland enjoying the apparent test of knowledge.
Westmoreland smiled, “No more tests, promise. Seems you know everything about me. Who are you?”
“Michael Scofield. How’d you get it in here?” Michael asked indicating that he was referring to the cat.
Charles stroked the cat tenderly on the head, “First of all, she’s not it she’s Marilyn, and she’s grandfather back in the days when prisoners were allowed a creature comfort or two.”
“Heard you were D.B. Cooper,” Michael confidently stated.
Westmoreland sighed, “Every new fish comes in here and the first thing they hear is that Charles Westmoreland is D.B. Cooper. I tell you like I tell them; if you want the Cooper story, I can’t give it to you because I’m not him.”
Michael frowned in feigned disappointment, “That’s too bad. Sort of wished it was. Man’s a legend.
“Nowhere near as much as I wish it were true my friend,” Charles grinned. “I’d have one million in cash waiting for me on the outside.”
Both men’s conversation was interrupted when both Michael and Westmoreland looked up seeing John Abruzzi approaching with a fire in his eyes. “I’d put some grass between them if I were you,” Charles warned before getting up from the bleachers to leave Michael alone with the obviously perturbed Sicilian.
Michael refused to be intimidated, “You know, this would go a whole lot easier it you would just hire me.”
Abruzzi had received a call earlier from the outside world telling him that the man who testified against him was still alive and set to turn federal evidence against his entire Mafia family. “What’s this all about?”
Michael remained sitting while Abruzzi bent down to confront him, “Say you were able to get outside these walls would you have the people in place to help you disappear forever?”
“Why do you care?” Abruzzi asked wondering how pictures of the federally protected witness Fibonacci had turned up in an unmarked envelope along with an origami crane at his place of business in the outside world.
“Just curious,” Michael simply replied looking past Abruzzi to the two thugs who stood ready to attack.
“Where’s Fibonacci?” Abruzzi impatiently asked.
“That’s not the way it works,” Michael informed the aggressive con.
Abruzzi stared hard at the new fish who had shown up out of nowhere with information on the most important scumbag in Abruzzi’s life, but the little prick was refusing to tell him the information that he needed. John stood up straight, turned around, and motioned for his two thugs to teach the new fish a lesson.
Michael stood up, “They come at me John and I’m coming after you.”
“I doubt that,” Abruzzi confidently replied turning back around to face Scofield.
Michael was hit in the gut with a heavy fist and he snapped out and hit Abruzzi in the mouth in retaliation. Michael could here other inmates shouting at the commotion cheering Abruzzi’s men on, and despite Michael’s best attempts, he quickly found himself on the ground in fetal position trying to protect his face from the onslaught of punches and kicks.
A rifle from a watchtower ranged out hitting the ground several times around the commotion with bullets. Cons immediately dropped to their knees; including Abruzzi who was bleeding and staring at the fish that was still wrapped up in a cocoon on the ground. Abruzzi hadn’t expected the new con to fight back, and despite his anger and frustration with Scofield, he quickly realized that he might have to try a different means of persuasion if he hoped to get Scofield to reveal the location of Fibonacci.

********************************************
Warden Pope looked at Michael in disgust, “I misjudged you Scofield. I didn’t think you were the agitating type. Behavior like that is not tolerated in my prison. Ninety days in the shoe will convince you of that.”
Michael stared in disbelief at the man who was obviously stilled pissed about him turning him down the day before. “Ninety days?
“That’s right,” the Warden smugly replied. He would teach the little arrogant bastard a lesson for refusing him.
Michael stepped towards the desk with his hands on his hips noting that the desk calendar read April 11th. Lincoln was set to be executed on May 11th, and Michael knew that if he were sent to solitary confinement for ninety days Lincoln wouldn’t stand a chance.
The Warden noticed the younger man looking at his desk, “Something you want to say?”
Michael knew that he had to play this just right if he wanted to avoid the shoe, “It’s just…I’m not of much value to you in the shoe.”
The Warden couldn’t believe the con’s egotism, “Value?”
“The Taj…it’d be a shame for the eighth wonder of the world to collapse because the stress isn’t properly propagated.”
“Properly propagated?” Henry asked intrigued by the engineering terminology.
“Properly propagated,” Michael explained. “The joints are overloaded. They won’t provide anywhere near the strength the completed structure will need.”
The Warden walked over towards Michael and placed his hand on the younger man’s arm, “How much work are we talking about?”
“You want it by June?” Michael asked knowing that he would be long gone before then.
“Yes,” Henry replied hopefully.
Michael smiled softy knowing that he had avoided a disaster, “Then we’d better get started. Wouldn’t you say?”
************************************
It was late in the afternoon by the time Michael made his way back onto the cellblock. Getting in a fight with Abruzzi had cost him hours in the Warden’s office working on the Taj Mahal, and he was tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he knew that his always active mind would be going over his plan throughout the night.

“Where you going Pretty,” Bagwell asked from his own opened cell. “Why don’t you come in here for a visit?”

Michael watched in disinterest as Maytag huffily left the cell, “I don’t want to get in between you and your girlfriend.”

Bagwell stood by the bars with his arm out in invitation, “She’ll get over it, but I must insist that you come in.”

Michael looked around the cellblock seeing other Purity members watching him closely, and they were obviously waiting for some sort of sign from their leader, “I suppose I could spare a few minutes.”

T-Bag watched as Scofield walked across the threshold of his cell, “That’s awfully kind of you. I know how busy you are being the new fish in the aquarium…I mean getting in a fight with John Abruzzi nonetheless.” Bagwell noticed that Maytag was still hanging outside the cell, “Leave us be boy.”

Michael watched as Maytag stomped off not at all surprised that Bagwell knew about the altercation, “Where were you by the way? I thought you were supposed to protect me?”

T-Bag grinned knowingly, “You have to do things to earn protection Pretty…besides; something tells me that you didn’t want me coming to your rescue.”

Michael was somewhat surprised at Bagwell’s astuteness, “Why would you think that?”

“Because it’s not everyday that a new fish pisses off the Mafia Boss on purpose unless he wants something in return,” T-Bag began. “No one gets in Abruzzi’s way unless they have a bone to pick; yet you went after him yesterday if I recall, so the question is…what exactly does a boy like you want from Abruzzi?”

Michael’s shoulders slumped in apparent defeat, “I thought maybe I could get him to protect me from you.”

T-Bag smiled wickedly, “You wanted him to protect you from little old me?”

Michael looked at the floor, “I’ve heard things about you…”

T-Bag gently lifted Michael’s chin, “And all of them are true Pretty, but one thing you might not have heard about me is that I can tell when a man is lying to me, and you my friend are lying through those perfect teeth of yours.”

Michael looked defiantly into the pedophile’s eyes, “Okay, fine…I haven’t heard anything about you.”

T-Bag smiled widely and shook his head, “You are entertaining that’s for sure Scofield.” He casually pulled at a sharpened shank from underneath his cot rubbing it with his finger, “You will learn your place Pretty. I would hate to scar that face but I will if necessary.”

Michael involuntarily stepped further into the cell watching as the murderer spit on his weapon and began polishing it on his shirt, “I need Abruzzi to get me on P.I.”

“Why?”

“Because I want out of the Yard,” Michael honestly answered.

“That’s understandable,” T replied stepping closer to the nervous fish. “But you can’t always get what you want, now can you?”

“Are you going to stop me from joining P.I.?” Michael asked irritably.

“Well, considering you are practically best friends with the Warden now, and you’ll be spending so much time away from me because of him…I really don’t see the need for you to join Abruzzi too.”

“You don’t understand. I need to join P.I…I have to join P.I.,” Michael asserted.

Bagwell kept pressing towards Scofield until the pretty con was cornered between the toilet and the bunk up against the concrete wall, “Why is it that important to you?”

There was no way in hell Michael was going to tell Bagwell the truth and risk letting a rapist and murderer back out on the streets, “What do I have to do to get you off my back so I can join P.I.?”

Bagwell sucked on his lower lip and twisted his tongue leering Michael up and down, “Trade bunks with Maytag for the night. You come down here to me and he goes up there with Ripper.”

“Why didn’t you just ask Bellick to put me in here yesterday?”

“One, I already have a girlfriend as you so eloquently put it, and two, I had to make sure you were worth the effort, which by the way, Ripper enthusiastically assures me that you are in fact worth the effort and the money,” T grinned suggestively. “Besides, poor Maytag would have balled his eyes out and probably would have tried to kill you.”

“And he won’t do that now with me kicking him out for the night?”

“Probably will try, but don’t you worry none Pretty, I think you can handle that little man,” T-Bag smiled. “You did after all have the balls to hit Abruzzi, so I think you can handle a little bitch like Maytag.”

“I will not hold your pocket,” Michael informed the rapist. “And I want to be transferred to cell forty with Sucre.”

T-Bag laughed boisterously, “This ain’t no time to be making deals Pretty.” T-Bag pressed Michael into the hard wall and placed the shank up against Michael’s neck, “You may be use to getting your way in your fancy office and your fancy loft, but in here you are nothing but my property, and if you ain’t afraid of me and my reputation then I have twenty guys out there who will gladly show you why it is I’m the leader of this here family…I snap my fingers and they will tear you apart from the inside out, fuck you to death, and leave you lying at death’s door in a pile of your own guts and blood.”

Michael tried to swallow down his fear despite the shank digging into the tender flesh of his neck, “So, the deal is I ask to spend the night in here with you, you take what you want, and I get nothing in return?”

“You get my protection and my sexual expertise,” T-Bag smiled victoriously. “What more could you possibly want?”

“P.I.,” Michael simply replied.

“Fine…you can have your P.I., but when you’re not with Abruzzi or the Pope, I expect to find you in my cell servicing my needs, is that understood Pretty?”

Michael was grateful for even the smallest of victories. “What about Ripper?”

“He’ll still be your cellie…you’ll just visit me from time to time with the understanding that I have it in my power to make you my permanent bunkmate if you refuse me in anyway.”

Michael sighed in defeat, “Fine, but I will not hold your pocket.”

Bagwell studied the piercing blue eyes and strong determination in Scofield’s jaw, “Agreed, but…you better not ever defy me boy or there will be hell to pay.” Bagwell inched closer pressing his lips to Michael’s who turned his head to the side at the last minute, “That’s not a good start to our little arrangement Pretty…this is the easy part.” T-Bag waited until Michael turned his head back to face him and leaned in again to press a kiss to Scofield’s sinful lips. He knew that other cons could see them if they were looking, but that didn’t stop him from pushing his hot tongue inside Michael’s mouth groaning as he made contact with Scofield’s talented tongue. He reluctantly pulled back when he heard another con clearing their throat in warning, “See there, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

Michael sighed in relief as the menacing con took the shank away from his neck and stepped back to give Michael some space. Michael stared at Bagwell’s back in resentment while wiping his violated mouth with his sleeve. He couldn’t help but wonder how a man of such small physical stature had accrued such respect and fear from the other cons. “You ever rape and kill anyone without a weapon Bagwell?”

T-Bag hung on the cell motioning for Bellick to come over, “I know what you’re thinking Scofield and trust me you don’t want to try it. I’ve killed men with my bare hands before; it’s just easier with a weapon.”

“There’s a big difference between men or little boys,” Michael insinuated.

T-Bag looked over his shoulder at Michael, “Would you like for my secretary to get you a copy of my resume Pretty? Do you really want to know what I’m capable of?”

“What do you need Bagwell?” Bellick asked from outside the cell.

“Well Boss, it’s seems that Mr. Scofield here has a request to ask of you,” T-Bag confidently replied.

“What is it fish? You want to call home and cry to your mommy about how hard prison life is?” Bellick cruelly asked knowing perfectly well that Scofield had no parents to call home to.

Michael looked at T-Bag and then Bellick trying to determine which was the lesser of two evils, “I want to request a cell transfer for just the night.”

Bellick arched his brow in mock surprise, “Really? What’s the matter, Ripper messing with your head?” Bellick couldn’t resist the urge to humiliate the new con, “Or maybe he’s messing around with some of them other softer parts on your body?”

Michael clinched his jaw in exasperation hating to speak the next sentence, “Actually, Ripper has requested the company of Maytag tonight, and Mr. Bagwell here has graciously offered to let me bunk with him for the night.”

“Is that a fact?” Bellick knowingly smiled. “Mr. Bagwell has graciously offered? Isn’t that nice of him?”

“I told him that it would be a sacrifice on my part, but that I was always willing to help out a fellow inmate,” T-Bag managed to say with a straight face.

“Well, you’re a real martyr Bagwell,” Bellick snickered. “Saint Theodore has a nice ring to it, don’t you think Scofield?” Brad wasn’t surprised when Scofield ignored his question obviously embarrassed over the entire situation, “Go get your shit Scofield, and I expect you to be back down here in five minutes.”

Michael reluctantly squeezed past the two men, “What will Maytag say?”

“Let me handle him,” T-Bag replied. “You go and get your stuff packed like the nice officer here said.”

Brad snickered as the new con walked off, “This is going to cost you extra T.” Bellick watched the new fish walking up the metal stairs toward the second-tier, “It didn’t take you long to get your clutches in him.”

T-Bag stealthily placed a nice piece of coinage in Bellick’s hand, “Oh, believe me Boss…I’m just getting started with this one…”

Part V coming soon.
Feedback is appreciated and is motivating:
darkestangel@darknessprevails.com