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25 November 2005 @ 03:40 pm
Prison Break Fanfiction: Broken Toys  
Title: Broken Toys
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: T-Bag, Michael (Dark)
Rating: PG-13 (for subject matter)
Summary: T-Bag's toys never lasted, and the good ones were hard to find.

Missed the first T-Bag story?


x-x-x-x-x

T-Bag needed a new toy.

The last one had broken itself before he’d even finished training it. His toys didn’t last nearly long enough, and it seemed he was always having to find replacements.

Now, his most recent one, Cherry, had not been one of his better specimens. He preferred them willing, like Maytag, when they were so much less work. Or scared, the way The Pretty was when he first came to Fox River and T- Bag had hoped to bring him on board. “Scared” was definitely more fun, so much more intense and satisfying.

Cherry had been neither. He was sullen, moody, never giving enough of himself up—not through passion or terror. And he’d quit playing so damned early. Foolish boy—they’d barely gotten started. And it wasn’t like Cherry had never enjoyed it, T-Bag had seen to that. There’d been tears, of course, but a climax doesn’t lie. T-Bag could testify to the success of his techniques on that score. Not that the little punk had ever been the least bit grateful. It was like starting over every damn time, the intimidation and wooing, and more times than not he’d have to get the knife out. No, Cherry had not been a fast learner. The whole Cherry experience had been all too brief and frustrating, truth be told.

T-Bag had seen his next opportunity not long after that, a swaggering little wise-ass with a truly bizarre way of talking and acting. He could have cured him of that, taught him to know who he was and respect that, and not be drifting off into that Negro-speak he kept imitating. T-Bag could see right into that boy, see what he was made of. There was weakness under all that noise, right there waiting. It would have been pure pleasure breaking that boy apart and bringing it out into the open, where he could poke at it and twist it and feed upon it.

But then The Pretty had to go interfering and spoil his chances of all that. T-Bag’s battered knee bore witness to what he’d given up, and it near made him sick having to be polite to that “Tweener” boy and kowtow to his insults.

But he was caught now, having to toe the line enough to stay in on the escape. He didn’t plan on keeping that up any longer than was strictly necessary, and he was already entertaining the possibilities of how he would make The Pretty pay when they were finally on the outside. There was always a chance, an unguarded moment, when you knew where to look. Theodore Bagwell had spent entire lifetimes knowing that moment when he saw it, whether it was a girl straying into an alley, a child wandering away from its Mama, or a man who thought he was in the clear and had started thinking in terms of relief instead of vigilance.

When you lived for torture and destruction, and you were devious and quick, it was all in the thrill of the hunt.

Too many had underestimated him over the years, and he’d learned to turn that to his advantage. It was a mistake that most had found far too costly. After all, a smart man doesn’t allow second chances.

So it might have to be quick, when the time came. Quick had its own sharp pleasures, certainly.

But he hoped it would be slow. He had unexplored territory he wanted to venture through, things he’d dreamed of doing. Those tattoos formed a kind of inspiration, spoke their own language to the artistry of the kill. A corona of bite marks haloing the angel on Michael’s stomach—that had a certain appeal. Razor-thin lines cut along the edges of the arches would bead up and create a stained-glass effect—adding depth to those complicated pictures. And he could take his time slicing and scraping along The Pretty’s arm to turn the Diamond and Heart cards red.

All of these would bring more beauty to the moment. But none would rival the shaking, the tears, and that heady underlying scent of fear. If he could get The Pretty alone and incapacitated—and heaven knew, T-Bag had years of practice behind him—he would let his knives dance over that slender form. He would taste the color he brought out on Michael’s skin, taste the terror on his lips, and coax his defeat out of him as he breached him and rode him and drove his body to betray itself.

That victory would be sweet.

It might not happen that way, but it was a dream he enjoyed returning to, slipping into it and sliding it around his mind with relish. No one could ever say that Theodore Bagwell didn’t have an appreciation for the finer things. And this dream, delicious and deadly, took a little bit of the sting out of that damaged knee.


-------- fin --------


 
 
 
veradeath on November 26th, 2005 01:21 am (UTC)
Me like. Very much so.
I do enjoy a darker T-bag, on occasion. This was good.
More please?
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphorshalfshellvenus on November 26th, 2005 01:42 am (UTC)
Good lord, are you people never satisfied? It only took me what, two months to get to the second one?

:-) :-) :-)
veradeath on November 26th, 2005 01:46 am (UTC)
*huffs* No, we are NEVER satisfied. We always want MORE creepytwistedbaddirtywrongsexyohsogood fic. *flounces off*
You know you love us.
NoraNora!angelrose493 on November 26th, 2005 02:35 am (UTC)
YAY for dark!T-Bag! He is just a grat character to watch unfold.
princessdoe on November 26th, 2005 02:45 am (UTC)
"So it might have to be quick, when the time came. Quick had its own sharp pleasures, certainly."

Wow -- this one's intense. Very good characterization and some haunting images in there. Great stuff!
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphorshalfshellvenus on November 26th, 2005 03:38 am (UTC)
Niiiiiiiiiice icon, from that last episode.

I thought for sure a kiss was coming. In a way, it was-- a Judas kiss in reverse.

Glad you liked this, because you certainly know your T-Bag. Got Chapter 3 of the Oriental done yet? :->
princessdoe on November 26th, 2005 04:10 am (UTC)
Almost! It's long enough that I'm considering splitting it nto Chapters 3 and 4 instead. I did some rewriting after "Odd Man Out", not so much to change any concrete details to fit but more because the brilliant acting in that scene (God bless Peter Stormare and Rob Knepper) set my perverted little brain afire all over again. And thanks. :-)
The Good, The Bad and The Lana: abruzzi nooooooooothelana on November 26th, 2005 07:48 am (UTC)
with a truly bizarre way of talking and acting. He could have cured him of that

And then we all would have loved him forever ;)

He would taste the color he brought out on Michael’s skin

*shudders*

Great sentence.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphorshalfshellvenus on November 27th, 2005 08:51 pm (UTC)
And then we all would have loved him forever ;)

I know I would :-*. I'm so sorry they brought that twerp into the show. He bugs me every time he's onscreen.
The Good, The Bad and The Lana: brave sad ljthelana on November 27th, 2005 08:55 pm (UTC)
Why T-Bag would even think of touching that guy with a ten foot pole is beyond me.

I'm all for Tweener/Bellick. Now those two are so meant to be.
Marcelademonic_cookie on November 30th, 2005 03:16 pm (UTC)
I'm all for Tweener/Bellick. Now those two are so meant to be.

And it would only cost Bellick a Big Mac!
The Good, The Bad and The Lanathelana on November 30th, 2005 03:25 pm (UTC)
LOL, yeah, Tweener is easy.
Ferryn - you know, that weird chickferrynheit on November 27th, 2005 06:28 pm (UTC)
Ooh, this was good! Deeper along the path of revenge. And after what Abruzzi did in last Monday's episode, maybe T-Bag could be thinking of similar punishment for him, other than what really happened. That was too quick. (Not to mention, it sucked! Abruzzi, why? *sob*)

The imagery is great in this fic. Everything's worded in almost a poetic way - very darkly poetic. Like inside T-Bag's mind.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphorshalfshellvenus on November 27th, 2005 08:40 pm (UTC)
I'll be thinking about T-Bag and Abruzzi, and see if I can work something out of that.

Can't believe they took him away from us so soon!
lia_mitchall on November 28th, 2005 04:34 am (UTC)
that was like wow!
Jack Slaughter's favourite barbie dollmegedeborch on November 28th, 2005 09:12 am (UTC)
A corona of bite marks haloing the angel on Michael’s stomach—that had a certain appeal. Razor-thin lines cut along the edges of the arches would bead up and create a stained-glass effect—adding depth to those complicated pictures.

Wow - your writing is just - wow.

Great stuff!

Hope that more will follow! :D
Zsuzsuness on November 28th, 2005 03:04 pm (UTC)
The last one had broken itself before he’d even finished training it.
I knew the moment I read this sentence that I am going to like this story.
That's so.. T-Bag-like. :) lolz.

But he hoped it would be slow. (..) He would taste the color he brought out on Michael’s skin, taste the terror on his lips, and coax his defeat out of him as he breached him and rode him and drove his body to betray itself.

And this is just HOT..
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphorshalfshellvenus on November 28th, 2005 07:03 pm (UTC)
And this is just HOT...

Well, hot to T-Bag anyway!

It feels really sociopathic to me, but then-- that's T-Bag all over.
Zsuzsuness on November 28th, 2005 07:18 pm (UTC)
bwahhha.. well yeah.. he is a sociopath, but hey.. I luv his perversions. They're part of him. which makes me a...
mercurybard on November 30th, 2005 02:59 am (UTC)
Those tattoos formed a kind of inspiration, spoke their own language to the artistry of the kill. A corona of bite marks haloing the angel on Michael’s stomach—that had a certain appeal. Razor-thin lines cut along the edges of the arches would bead up and create a stained-glass effect—adding depth to those complicated pictures. And he could take his time slicing and scraping along The Pretty’s arm to turn the Diamond and Heart cards red.
Never knew T-bag was such an artist! Creepy, but intriguing just the same. Tweener will never know how close he was to horror, and, hopefully, Michael will never end up in a position where he's at T-bag's mercy.
dirtandweeds on January 7th, 2006 08:25 am (UTC)
*dies, is reborn, and dies again*

Soooooo gooooooddd..
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: TBag by marinarusalkahalfshellvenus on January 7th, 2006 08:40 am (UTC)
::waves the smelling salts::

The fans (and Robert Knepper) made me do it. I was only planning to write the first one.

T-Bag's powers of persuasion drive us all. Even me. :-0
dirtandweeds on January 7th, 2006 08:43 am (UTC)
::waves the smelling salts::

Nods happily and pretends to understand.

Yeah - POVs are my addiction.
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: TBag by marinarusalkahalfshellvenus on January 7th, 2006 08:52 am (UTC)
Nods happily and pretends to understand.

Oh, sorry. They are what used to be used to bring people around after they'd fainted. (way back when).

Yeah - POVs are my addiction.

Heh. They're most of what I write for PrisonBreak, so I guess they're my addiction too. :-D
dirtandweeds on January 7th, 2006 09:02 am (UTC)
Yeah - POVs seem so much easier for me to relate too, although I do like other kinds of fiction of course. I don't know - when they are nicely done, it's kind of refreshing.
Zenon Receiveszenon_receives on March 6th, 2010 01:24 am (UTC)
This fic didn't hit my spot exactly, but that part:
But he hoped it would be slow. He had unexplored territory he wanted to venture through, things he’d dreamed of doing. Those tattoos formed a kind of inspiration, spoke their own language to the artistry of the kill. A corona of bite marks haloing the angel on Michael’s stomach—that had a certain appeal. Razor-thin lines cut along the edges of the arches would bead up and create a stained-glass effect—adding depth to those complicated pictures. And he could take his time slicing and scraping along The Pretty’s arm to turn the Diamond and Heart cards red.

...just ama-ZING! D:

And stop that hating on poor pretty Tweener, you meanies! ;_;
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors: TBaghalfshellvenus on January 28th, 2011 11:15 pm (UTC)
Sorry for the late reply here!

I'm glad you found and like this. There's a limit to how sociopathic I'm willing to go in writing him, but I think that passage you quoted showed how twisted his thinking is and just how lethal he can so easily be.

And T-Bag hated Tweener with a passion. I didn't like him much either (he was a poser), but you weren't supposed to like him until later, when you suddenly felt very, very sorry for him. ;_;