Michael Scofield Has Returned!

Chapter 1: The Odd Samaritan

“The rat race is finally over!”

“On your knees! Your hands wrapped around your neck!” A menacing voice alarmed in a discordant baritone.

“Spill your last prayers before we send you six feet underground.” “It's the end of the road!” Three vicious voices reverberated across the cold street with their faces etched with simmering rage.

Their words ushered in moments of numbness, as a surge of tension ran through the victim’s vibrated veins.

Without further ado, she silently obeyed and shut her eyes in mumbled prayers with her heart bleeding in alarming pain.

Uncontrollable tears glued on her tender cheeks as her spines quivered in indescribable anguish.

She didn't envisage her last moments would seem profoundly pitiful.

The sky viciously rumbled, accompanied by a thick, darker cloud, which sent an explicit message of a soon heavy downpour about to hit the streets of Manchester City.

“Please!” Her voice desperately gutted out.

“Don't do this! I will triple whatever you were paid to exterminate me!” “Please!” She wholeheartedly cried out with her gasps ragged in sharp breaths.

However, her pleading words fell on deaf ears. “It’s too late for that! Toodles!” He perilously uttered with an ounce of mockery. His pistol hoisted on the victim to pull the damn trigger.

Unexpectedly, a thick, compelling voice barked out from the background, which intensified the tension charmed in the disturbing ambiance.

“You wouldn't dare pull that trigger!” “Drop your weapons and run as far as you can while you still can,” an unknown fearless personnel vehemently warned while headed towards the almost murder scene.

“I won't repeat myself! Let her go this second!” “She’s off the book!”

The three hefty exterminators contemptuously bashed into hysterical giggles while they stared at a young masculine man in his thirties, with a courageous aura spilling unbelievable words.

“Who invited the rabbit to a party meant for tigers?” one of the aggravated assassins bawled out with eyes instantly switched to reddish.

“Who the hell are you?! Certainly, you have signed your death warrant, and I will help send you both underneath!”

Promptly, the air thickened and boiled in intense tension.

The victim and three assassins were plunged into an introspective aura on who the strange, light-skinned young man was and what assured him of such unwavering guts.

The assassins flashed a deadly glare at him while they wiggled their brows in coded language. “Attack him at once!” They viciously sprinted towards him in full force, with one abrupt goal which was to; ‘Kill Him!’

They stormed before his unperturbed face and simultaneously unleashed three heavy hits against him.

PUNCHES!!!

“Yes! That's what we're talking about! Smash that idiot's bones till he bleeds to death!” They screamed out in an excited chorus.

“Please!” “Don’t kill him! You came for me! Have me instead and leave him!” The victim tearfully expressed with her two hands on the ground as she continually begged for her life to be taken instead.

Unexpectedly, the same husky voice barked out again. “Huh? A mere three punches?” Is that all you've got!?” “I expected a lot more after your incessant blabbing!” He wholeheartedly taunted them right before their perplexed faces.

They stared at themselves in engrossing bewilderment. ‘Did he just call those punches a feeble hit?’ they uncontrollably mused.

The more they thought, the more confused they became about the young man's undetectable identity.

The victim was instantly stunned at the unfolded event and shut her mouth in an awe-struck aura.

“Freeze!” “You have been surrendered by Manchester Anfield Police Force!” The agile cop men warned and recited while the street felt the persistent blaring siren sound from the police cruiser.

The strange young man tittered hysterically and flashed a contemptuous stare at the dumbstruck three assassins, “I warned you all to flee when you got the chance. The plan all along was to halt your tracks to buy enough time for the police officers to arrive.”

Unbeknownst, while they were on the verge of exterminating the victim, he swiftly informed the emergency center a few miles away.

On second thought, he knew if he didn't temporarily interfere, they'd most likely gun her down before the cop men would hit the road.

“I owe my life to you.” “Thank you!” She wholeheartedly mouthed with a beam of appreciation. “You risked your life even at the slightest knowledge you could have been murdered if the police officers hadn't intervened in time.”

She was enthralled in shock but managed to spill further. “I’m… my name is Sheraton Morgan. What about you?” she mouthed accompanied by an uncontrollable stutter.

“My Heaven's! I'm late! I need to be somewhere in less than five!” He abruptly voiced out and promptly dashed into the cold lonely street.

“At least tell me your name!” She reactively uttered. “Where are you headed? Please, who are you?” she confusedly inquired with her eyes gleamed at a sprinting, strange young man.

‘Who really is he? My odd Samaritan?’ she continually mused as she disdainfully flashed a deadly stare at the three assassins who were being cuffed.

About 1.5 kilometers away from the almost murder scene, a certain furious inquiry voice spoke out with a stiffened demeanor. “Michelle! Where is your husband? Hasn't arrived yet? It's almost time for Charleston Park Shopping Mall's tenth-anniversary feast!”

“...Where in heaven's name is that fool?!”

“...Gosh!”