Hallo, Gast!
Willkommen in Manchester! Zutritt erst ab 18 Jahren, weil unsre Hooligans finden, dass CGI Blut nur auf volljährigen Gesichtern hübsch aussieht. Und mit diesen Anarchos legst du dich besser nicht an, alles, was die tun, ist vollkommen willkürlich, Chaos pur. Die haben sogar unseren Plot verloren. Jetzt sind wir nur noch ein schnödes Real-Life RPG ohne höhere Bestimmung und eventuelle Erleuchtungserfahrungen. Voll langweilig. Und was auch total widerlich ist: diese familiäre Atmosphäre. Was nützt einem die absolute Freiheit im Inplay, wenns außerhalb davon zugeht, wie in nem Pfadfinderferienlager? Hier ist man tatsächlich noch der Meinung Spaß haben zu können, ohne sich gegenseitig auf den Keks zu gehen. Naive Baumkuschler.

If he puts his hands on you, cut them off. Season 1 Finale AU
Benutzer, die gerade dieses Thema anschauen: 1 Gast/Gäste

alcoHOElic
#1
If he puts his hands on you, cut them off.
The handcuffs clicked, and he found his left wrist engulfed in cold, hard steel. The sensation lulled him into a false sense of security for a second, but the barrel of that gun pressing against his temple and the fact that he knew very well Abruzzi was about to pull the trigger knocked him right out of the skies and brought him back down to earth. „If ya shoot me, you’ll be carryin’ around 170 pounds of dead Alabama flesh with ya,“ he reminded John, hastily, and cocked his head to dart a smug glance at him.

Well, that escalated quickly.

He could’ve just as well chained himself to Pretty, whom he heard lamenting and grumbling about in the front seat, but, first of all, he’d had to make a decision within a split-second to make sure his number wasn’t gonna be up in the next couple of minutes because John decided to gut him after all, and second of all, Pretty might’ve been the man with the plan but John was the man with the plane. And, truth be told, that sounded way more reassuring right now. So, having the mobster’s hand chained to his served as quite an effective insurance against failure, he figured.

Doch je tiefer die Nacht
desto besser die Idee
Manchmal frag ich mich ja schon, was machst du wohl grade so. Also nicht das mich das irgendwie beschäftigt, ich bin mittlerweile voll gefestigt. Ob ich die Tage zähle seit du weg bist? Klar, als hätte ich 412 Tage nichts besseres zu tun.
Ich gebe meinem Ego die spezielle Kur.
#2
If he puts his hands on you, cut them off.
There was this familiar weight of a gun in his hand and a part of him felt a lot more comfortable with it, as he pushed it against Theodore’s temple. He knew he would have to get rid of him as soon as they were outside these walls and fortunately they made it. Now, they didn’t need another unnecessary weight pulling them down.

After everything T-Bag has put them, he had put him through, it felt more like a relief. Sweet, sweet revenge for those days in the hospital and all the pain he had had to endure. An eye for an eye. And although the price the other would have to pay would be higher than John’s, there was no way he was letting him go unharmed.

What he didn’t expect was cold steel being wrapped around his wrist. He pulled his right hand back reflexively but heard the jingling of the chain connecting the handcuffs and realizing what just happened, he wanted to do nothing more than shooting him straight into his head, damned be the consequences.

“See how much I care,” he barked angrily into his ear. John pushed the gun more firmly against the other man’s skin, while he unlocked the gun. His patience was running thin and if his other hand wasn’t occupied by this piece of steel holding it back, he would have grabbed his hair.

He scowled at Michael. “Get the damn key, Scofield, or I swear on everything you hold dear you won’t be seeing the plane from the inside.” Fibonacci wasn’t of importance as long as he had to deal with this nuisance, who was bound to him. And he will be dealt with.

However, they didn’t succeed and Theodore once again proved to be utterly desperate. John couldn’t recall a situation in the past ten years, where he had felt as much rage as he did now. He was furious and the anger was radiating from him.

“If you think this plan will work, you’re wrong,” he whispered and if there was even the slightest opportunity to get rid of him, he would.

[Bild: scott-sig-04.png]
Danke, danke, danke, Laura! T_T 38


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