Author's Note: Well chapter two is out! Now, I really just want to warn that this is discriptive torture scenes. So just want you to read knowing. It gets really intense probably in the next couple of chapters, so stick around. (: Thanks.

Disclaimer: I do not own these character or anything on Prison Break.

Warnings: Violence, Torture.

Chapter Two: First Slip

Michael spit the blood out onto the floor. The bitter sweet taste of copper in his tingling mouth, The men leered in front of him, breaking a what seemed to be endless beating of continuous punch after punch. Sweat formed on Michael's forehead trickled down into his one of many cut on his face giving numbing sting.

Lincoln had been punched more than a few times as well from his outbursts, but nothing compared to what Michael had received. Sara cried out for them to stop a couple of times before finding her voice completely useless. And the others- well, they just watched and cringed from each bone crushing smack.

Hardly a nice get together. This whole thing was so uncalled for. Everything really. Michael obviously predicted the manhunt that would go down and, after awhile in prison and what Veronica had dug up, he also figured some government would be on their tails. But this- this was just extreme. Sickening as well, knowing how corrupted and disgusting the government ran this country.

Another punch. A farewell gift it seemed as they both left out the door feeling that their work was done for the moment.

"Michael..." Ah, Sara's voice. The way she said his name was just about everything he wanted to hear right now. He didn't know how it happened, but it did. He fell in love with the woman. His life was smooth sailing before getting thrown into Fox Rivers, but also boring. Then he met his spark of life and knew he wouldn't be able to stay away from her.

"Michael. How..." Sara couldn't rip her eyes away from the abused form in front of her that she loved so very much.

"Don't worry, I have a plan." Michael's voice didn't sound pleasant, even to his ears. The way it scratched along his dry throat walls.

"How can you possibly see a plan? I see blank walls and all of us chained up..." She wished she knew what he was thinking.

"Yeah papi, this is not looking good. I mean you're not seeing what we're seeing and you are looking pretty messed up." Sucre expressed one of his many faces that elicited his concern.

"They just need to slip up. The more I appear weak, the more cocky they'll get." Blood dripped down from Michael's eyebrow nearly into his eye before he closed it.

"I just hope your right, Michael." Lincoln wanted to strangle this Bill Kim guy, for not only ruining his life, but for hurting and killing all the people he cared about.

The time dwindled on slowly and irritably. Both of Michael's hands have been numb for the past hour or so. It was hard to keep track of the hours when you had no sense other than a window leaking light.

When the door finally opened, Michael turned his notice the two that returned again. No Kim. This could either be a bad thing or something to work in his benefit. Kim, no doubt a cautious man, would be a little harder to earn a slip up, whereas these guys might as well be dumb and dumber in comparison. All buff, no brains.

And surely enough, after they had thrown in a few more punches, they released the chains connected to Michael's wrists and abruptly kicked him hard in the stomach as soon as his feet tapped the ground. As he fumbles a neat sweep under his feet causes him to fall unceremoniously on his back knocking the wind out of him. Michael makes a turn to get up, but his hand is stepped on while the other guy slams onto him like a stone slab pinning his back onto the floor.

Needless to say everyone on the side lines yell out like rioting crowd. Michael's left arm remains extended out from his side underneath the man's boot. Michael's eyes widen at the closer look. Metal plates on the underside of the boot gleam.

"Do it," the one on top of Michael sneers over to his pal.

Without warning the boot smashes down heavily on his fingers and a loud snap resonates through the room. Michael yells, scrunching his face tight and struggling to pull his arm back. The whole crowd is silent after Michael's agonizing yell.

Then again, after the nice dramatic pause, another heavy blow with the heel straight down on middle finger knuckle area. Michael chokes back a yell deep in his throat, but clamps his teeth tight biting his tongue until he can feel the blood float in his mouth.

Looks like they were going for the whole set of fingers doing one last crack on his already mangled hand. Michael makes a throaty noise under his exhaling breath. They let go of Michael's hand once all the fingers on his left hand are broken.

Michael doesn't want to move a muscle until they leave and they take their dear time. Just as the one pinning him down gets up to leave he soaks in the power by giving one last, not strong, but enough to make any broken hand burn, kick to his hand. Michael curls into cradling his throbbing hand close to his chest waiting for them to leave.

No remorse present in those cold killer eyes. Something that would always be different between them. It was wrong, and he was considered the convict?

Michael lays his forehead down on the cool ground serving as a nice ice pack. The door shuts with a lock and Michael can feel the angst eyes staring at his broken body.

He breaths in gaining his centre again before lifting himself up with his unharmed right hand to finally face the group. "They just slipped," his voice was worn and ragged, but still determined to get them out of this mess.

He stood up, slightly wavering, and held his trembling hand to his body closely. Surveying the room he really couldn't find anything other than the window above, which would serve as part of the plan. He observed the structure of the window, noting the basic latch. But he would need to get the others out of their restraints before he could even test the lever. If he could get them up then someone could lift below and the ones on the roof could pull the rest of the way up. Now, he just needed to find something to pick the locks.

"Michael, what're you thinking buddy?" Lincoln knew that look of gears cranking in his brother's head when he saw it. He sounded alert, probably brotherly instincts kicking in seeing his brother's hurt form.

"Just need something to pick the locks..." Michael mumbled to himself. Everyone worriedly glanced to each other.

"We'll get out...we have to," Michael bit his lip looking down at his shaking hand.