The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors (halfshellvenus) wrote,
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors
halfshellvenus

Prison Break Fanfiction: Stealth

Author: HalfshellVenus
Category: C-Note’s POV (Genfic)
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Episodes 1, 8, 9.

Summary: It’s all in who’s paying attention.

x-x-x-x-x


Others thought they had the power inside the pen, but that was all show. Abruzzi ran the P.I. and had the goon gang, and T-Bag and a few others had their own followers. That kind of power was obvious and loud, the kind people expected.

C-Note preferred more subtle methods. He ran the prison’s black market, one of the most flexible tools inside Fox River. He did it quietly and efficiently, knowing who needed what, how to get it, and how to force just a little more payment out of his customers than they’d really planned to give. He had a good system, and he liked how it worked. Nothing wrong with quiet success.

Keen observation was a power all its own, too. That was how C-Note had noticed the individual members of the P.I. team dribbling concrete pebbles all over the yard, a little bit at a time. He’d added 2 and divided by 5 and taken the square-root of everything, and had come up with a quadratic equation that looked a lot like an escape plan.

He’d approached Scofield about it, and once again that ability to see and infer had paid off well. Scofield’s darting eyes and taking too long to form a denial had told C-Note all he’d really needed to know.

So he’d maneuvered his way into the escape, the way he maneuvered contraband inside the pen and had worked his illegal trades outside of it. And he was keeping an eye on things, making sure that train wasn’t about to leave without him.

He was a wolf here among sheep, most of them never looking at the big picture or really asking what was going on beyond meals, smokes and fights. Now Scofield was a little different. He was clever all right, not part of the herd at all but more like a fox, slipping quietly and half-hidden through the woods. But foxes never could help being a little too flashy, no matter how hard they tried. Scofield was soft-spoken and low-key, but his mysterious behaviors were as noticeable as red fur backed up against the browns and greens of a forest floor.

The fox might enjoy being clever, going on about its business and admiring itself. It certainly had the advantage over so many lesser animals, most of which just drifted around and never stopped to notice or to plan.

But make no mistake. All that cleverness wouldn’t make the least bit of difference when the fox found itself lying slack inside the jaws of the larger and deadlier wolf.

The wolf never hunted for pleasure. But it could be strong and swift and sure if it needed to be.

Count on it.

------------------------- FIN -------------------------

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