[EM] 11 - Theme Song
Sep. 7th, 2006 04:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
human_blueprint Michael stood, trying to fight back his growing frustration. “So... same time tomorrow?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Lincoln looked like he wanted to shake his head, but didn’t. “They're.. um.. transferring me to a prison, where I'll wait until they execute me.”
Michael glanced up at that, jarred by hearing the words, realizing that this was it...the die was cast and he was losing the battle. He could almost see Lincoln slipping further and further away as time went on.
“Can I still visit?” he asked, trying not to sound as frightened and young as he suddenly felt, not having much success as he reached for the crane still sitting on the counter, taking back the mantle he’d accepted...his brother’s life, careworn and beautifully made, his to protect.
“Yeah,” Lincoln replied with a small, almost imperceptible shrug, “not that far...a place called Fox River.”
Michael’s eyes lit up...he could *feel* his brain firing, the memory lifting, the plans unfurling, murky and poorly recalled in his mind. “Fox River?”
“Yeah... why?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing.”
* * *
In his car, Michael went over the confrontation in his mind, the same words ringing out over and over.
Fox River...Fox River...Fox River Fox River Fox River Fox River...
He’d worked on the project himself...not a big part, but he’d helped draft the retrofit on the prison infirmary and his mind closed in on that. It was a plan even he couldn’t crack...couldn’t quite patch every hole, so he did the best he could.
But even his best had holes...and he knew every last one of them.
He knew...he had the plans. The blueprints were at the office...a little reading, a little collecting...
Michael rubbed a hand over his features, fighting the thoughts swimming in his head. The structural integrity of the infirmary bars...and access, there were sewage drains and pipelines running below the infirmary, located in storage rooms throughout the prison...and the abandoned steam pipes running below...
He cut off his own train of thought, rubbing his eyes as if that would blot out the details filtering through every pore, every synapse, entering him through every breath and circulating out through each exhalation.
The city was on a budget that cut down on demolition. He didn’t have enough time.
He could get the hardware specs on the cells. It was too risky.
There’d been a news story on an arrest a little while back...some mob boss that got sent up. He was plotting a *prison break*, it was insane!!
He would have to get arrested.
Someone could get hurt.
Michael finally had to pull over to the side of the road, putting the car in park and folding his arms across the steering wheel, resting his forehead atop them as he gave himself over to the stream of information threatening to drive him mad. He let it run through his head, kept his heart from racing like mad, Lincoln was being moved to Fox River to wait for the execution, the fucking execution...
Right or wrong...good or evil.
It was completely insane.
But it wasn’t impossible.
Straightening, Michael took a deep breath, jaw clenching in apprehension as he put the car in gear and pulled out on to the road again, hanging a left to get on the road that would take him to the office rather than take him home.
* * *
New World Man
by RUSH
He's a rebel and a runner
He's a signal turning green
He's a restless young romantic
Wants to run the big machine
He's got a problem with his poisons
But you know he'll find a cure
He's cleaning up his systems
To keep his nature pure
Learning to match the beat of the Old World Man
Learning to catch the heat of the Third World Man
He's got to make his own mistakes
And learn to mend the mess he makes
He's old enough to know what's right
But young enough not to choose it
He's noble enough to win the world
But weak enough to lose it
He's a New World Man...
He's a radio receiver
Tuned to factories and farms
He's a writer and arranger
And a young boy bearing arms
He's got a problem with his power
With weapons on patrol
He's got to walk a fine line
And keep his self-control
Trying to save the day for the Old World Man
Trying to pave the way for the Third World Man
He's not concerned with yesterday
He knows constant change is here today
He's noble enough to know what's right
But weak enough not to choose it
He's wise enough to win the world
But fool enough to lose it
He's a New World Man...
Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break
Words: 580
Out of the corner of his eye, Lincoln looked like he wanted to shake his head, but didn’t. “They're.. um.. transferring me to a prison, where I'll wait until they execute me.”
Michael glanced up at that, jarred by hearing the words, realizing that this was it...the die was cast and he was losing the battle. He could almost see Lincoln slipping further and further away as time went on.
“Can I still visit?” he asked, trying not to sound as frightened and young as he suddenly felt, not having much success as he reached for the crane still sitting on the counter, taking back the mantle he’d accepted...his brother’s life, careworn and beautifully made, his to protect.
“Yeah,” Lincoln replied with a small, almost imperceptible shrug, “not that far...a place called Fox River.”
Michael’s eyes lit up...he could *feel* his brain firing, the memory lifting, the plans unfurling, murky and poorly recalled in his mind. “Fox River?”
“Yeah... why?”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing.”
In his car, Michael went over the confrontation in his mind, the same words ringing out over and over.
Fox River...Fox River...Fox River Fox River Fox River Fox River...
He’d worked on the project himself...not a big part, but he’d helped draft the retrofit on the prison infirmary and his mind closed in on that. It was a plan even he couldn’t crack...couldn’t quite patch every hole, so he did the best he could.
But even his best had holes...and he knew every last one of them.
He knew...he had the plans. The blueprints were at the office...a little reading, a little collecting...
Michael rubbed a hand over his features, fighting the thoughts swimming in his head. The structural integrity of the infirmary bars...and access, there were sewage drains and pipelines running below the infirmary, located in storage rooms throughout the prison...and the abandoned steam pipes running below...
He cut off his own train of thought, rubbing his eyes as if that would blot out the details filtering through every pore, every synapse, entering him through every breath and circulating out through each exhalation.
The city was on a budget that cut down on demolition. He didn’t have enough time.
He could get the hardware specs on the cells. It was too risky.
There’d been a news story on an arrest a little while back...some mob boss that got sent up. He was plotting a *prison break*, it was insane!!
He would have to get arrested.
Someone could get hurt.
Michael finally had to pull over to the side of the road, putting the car in park and folding his arms across the steering wheel, resting his forehead atop them as he gave himself over to the stream of information threatening to drive him mad. He let it run through his head, kept his heart from racing like mad, Lincoln was being moved to Fox River to wait for the execution, the fucking execution...
Right or wrong...good or evil.
It was completely insane.
But it wasn’t impossible.
Straightening, Michael took a deep breath, jaw clenching in apprehension as he put the car in gear and pulled out on to the road again, hanging a left to get on the road that would take him to the office rather than take him home.
New World Man
by RUSH
He's a rebel and a runner
He's a signal turning green
He's a restless young romantic
Wants to run the big machine
He's got a problem with his poisons
But you know he'll find a cure
He's cleaning up his systems
To keep his nature pure
Learning to match the beat of the Old World Man
Learning to catch the heat of the Third World Man
He's got to make his own mistakes
And learn to mend the mess he makes
He's old enough to know what's right
But young enough not to choose it
He's noble enough to win the world
But weak enough to lose it
He's a New World Man...
He's a radio receiver
Tuned to factories and farms
He's a writer and arranger
And a young boy bearing arms
He's got a problem with his power
With weapons on patrol
He's got to walk a fine line
And keep his self-control
Trying to save the day for the Old World Man
Trying to pave the way for the Third World Man
He's not concerned with yesterday
He knows constant change is here today
He's noble enough to know what's right
But weak enough not to choose it
He's wise enough to win the world
But fool enough to lose it
He's a New World Man...
Muse: Michael Scofield
Fandom: Prison Break
Words: 580
