Title: A Matter Of Perspective
Characters: Michael, Lincoln (Gen, AU, Crack)
Summary: Some things are even more ridiculous on paper…
Author's Notes: This was supposed to be for fox_las and the prompt of "reading a book about yourself," but I missed the part about "no AUs" on this round.
For prisonbreak100 and writers_choice ("Mirror").
"Hey, Lincoln, you're just in time," Michael said. "The game's about to start."
"Great." Lincoln stepped into the apartment, a grocery sack in one arm. "I brought beer. Vee says Hi."
"How's she doing?" Michael asked. "There's what, about a month left?"
"Yeah." Lincoln sat down next to Michael and handed him a beer. "Vee thinks it's a girl, but I'm betting on a boy. Still picking out names, though… " Lincoln glanced down at the coffee table. "What's this book you're reading?"
Michael rolled his eyes. "It's insane. Some guy gets himself put in prison so he can break his brother out. Before his brother's execution date three weeks later."
"It's so contrived," Michael scoffed. "There all these intricate schemes—hidden tunnels behind toilets, corrosive chemicals, sweet deals with Mafia inmates. And get this: the guy has a map of the whole prison tattooed on his body."
"God, who does that? He must have some kind of sick infatuation with his brother," Lincoln said.
"Plus, the brother was on Death Row, so he must've been a total loser."
"Oh no, not really," Michael said. "The brother was 'innocent'." He made air-quotes with his fingers.
"Yeah, right." Lincoln gulped a few swallows of beer, eyeing the action on the television set. "Damn Cubs are losing already..."
"Well, they're playing, so it's inevitable."
"True," Lincoln said. "So, was the guy in the book just going to blast his way out of prison, or what?"
"That would have been too easy. And a total waste of the tattoo. He put specs on there for screw sizes and air-duct pathways, and then some really dumb stuff like his mother's name and an old girlfriend's phone number."
"Right," Lincoln said, "because he'd never remember that on his own. And screw sizes? What the hell for? Where would he get that kind of information anyway?"
"He worked on the blueprints for the modifications at the prison, so he could get access. He's an architect."
"You're an architect," Lincoln pointed out. "I thought they were more analytical and stuff. This guy sounds nuts."
"Exactly." Michael muted the commercial. "I could swear last year's season opener was just as bad as this one. Want some chips?"
"Nah, I'm good." Lincoln propped his feet up on the coffee table. "So how does the book end?"
"Who knows? I chucked it about halfway through. After the main character tossed a rat into an electrical panel and then got scorched by a steam pipe."
Lincoln frowned. "A rat?"
"Why the hell did you even start reading this book in the first place?"
"It was in the airport bookstore, and I had a long flight ahead of me. It looked interesting."
"Like a train wreck," Lincoln muttered. "This is why I don't read. Except comic books—they'll never let you down."
"Hah hah," Michael said. "I didn't go to college to read comic books."
"Would've saved you the time you wasted on this book. But now at least you'll know how to bust me out of prison after I murder somebody."
"Dream on," Michael said, turning the sound back on. He elbowed Lincoln in the side.
"You'd better try your best to stay out of trouble, because I would totally let you rot."
- fin -