Michael Scofield Has Returned!

Chapter 6: “Michael Scofield Is Dead?”

“Who sent you!” He screamed at the top of his lungs while he raced as two assassins audaciously sprinted towards him.

After a few moments of not closing in on him due to how swiftly he paced, they returned to the moving van and zoomed toward him with one absolute mission; ‘Kill him!’

Within ten seconds in a marathon race to preserve his life, hot, dripping sweat engrossed his head as he could breathe the hotness of the thick air.

He perceived no one could come to his rescue and the only option was to keep running till his legs failed him.

The black van dangerously swerved towards his sprinting position, and before he could blink his eyelids, it viciously slammed him through.

He uncontrollably fell across a field floor surrounded by thick bushes with his shoulders plunged against the wet grasses.

He uncontrollably lost control while falling and somersaulted multiple times with his head persistently colliding against the thick bushes across the road a few miles from Manchester City’s Southgate Godfrey’s Lake.

He was slightly unconscious, still struggling to breathe with blood stamped on his head, his eyes shut in pounding pain.

Amidst the terrible somersaulting with bones sore and plunged in pain, he managed to gut out. “If you all will kill me. I'd have to watch my breath gradually slip through my nostrils!” He sneered at them while he persistently coughed out blood from his pierced lips.

The five assassins raised their brows in shocked silence and wondered how the victim would remain vehement even after their van hit him hard. “Sure! I would be most delighted to watch you gasp to death as no one would ever save you from the inevitable.”

“Take him to the closest Lake at once! We have a few minutes to finish him up and return to base!” One of the assassins blatantly bawled; his eyeball gleamed with no mercy.

A few hours ago, Michael halted a perilous plan of three assassins to exterminate a young woman.

Ironically, the same merciless fate has befallen him.

Michael gasped and panted heavily as they dragged him across the thick bush and finally shoved his struggling bruised body against the edge of Southgate Godfrey's Lake.

Amidst the scornful smirk across their faces, he audaciously spoke out. “If you're bent on taking my life then you all would work hard for it!”

“I’m not going down until I'm certain I have no ounce of strength to fight!” He boldly expressed with his fists clenched while he managed to stand firm with his staggered weakened feet.

“Ridiculous!” One of the exterminators smirkfully taunted.

“In all our years of untraceable extermination, we haven't met a bold soul as yours, but tonight, this moment would be your last showdown! I assure you!”

“You want to go against five assassins? Who the hell are you to exude such guts–” The assassin was still in gloating speech when Michael sprinted towards him with every vigor he got in him, his forehead sweaty and swollen gripped with external injuries.

Without hesitation, he targeted a precise firm blow against the assassin's unprotected face.

Before the other four assassins would catch the glimmer of what was unfolding. He smashed him the

second time.

JAW PUNCHES!!!

“Urghhh!” He screamed out in pain, his jaw instantly turning reddish, the jaw point cracked.

“Arghhh! My God!” The hit assassin bellowed in excruciating pain, his jaw stiffened as he fell to his knees to catch his reverberating breath.

“You!? What the hell!” Two of the other assassins drew a sharp exhalation and ran towards him while the other two behind screamed at the top of their lungs in uncontrollable rage as they watched their colleague’s jaw swollen up.

“Fellas! Take him out with heavy punches! He must pay for that stupid stunt!” They menacingly barked in simmering rage.

Michael swiftly jumped at the back of one of the approached assassins, while firmly biting his ear as ruggedly as he could.

“Shit! My damn ear!” he gutted, with glimpses of tears swimming off his eyes.

Michael’s bite was scornful until he somewhat tore a part of his ear as blood vigorously gushed out and splashed on his face and that of the victimized assassin. “Holy heaven's! Help me! Arghhh!” He cried out in a stream of tears

Unexpectedly, while still at the assassin’s back, a well-precise strike descended on his chin. UPPERCULT!!!

“Stay down you motherfucker!!! Fucking stay down!!!” Two of the alerted assassins shrieked as their eyes disdainfully shot at him.

He fell without control and thud his bruised head against the hard floor.

“Finish up the monster!” He cried out as he held onto his almost cut-out ear.

“I will watch you die on this ground! I promise my ear would be the last you'd ever taste!” “Ear eater!” He viciously barked out, still in tears, as he breathed out an exasperated sigh.

Michael spat on the floor and sharply breathed with his strength almost drained out.

The two assassins cautiously watched their guard while they descended on him and struck ten more punches and blows on him with their faces menaced in fury.

“Submerge him into the lake this minute! I would love to see him painfully gasp with his eyes wide open till he breathes his last!”

Three exterminators held him and shoved his head against the Lake with one mission; ‘Absolute Perishing!’

They knew he was already weak and would most likely not have reserved strength to hold on for so long.

Michael fought so hard to overpower their grips but they vehemently outnumbered him in might and vigor.

He coughed, gulped, choked up, and gasped for survival but his airflow was tightened with his face viciously slammed against the fierce water.

“Hold his head firmly until I'm certain he's gone!”

Over three minutes, he struggled to stay alive while he did all he could to control his gasping failing breath, but slowly and gradually, his strength eventually disappointed him.

His sensory organs started slipping off to inactivity as he inevitably went short of breath.

Within five minutes of the persistent struggle to sustain his weakened breath, his body eventually went numb, which presumably signified one unimaginable outcome.

The assassins wiggled their brows at their ear-bitten colleague who disdainfully watched every moment of the inhumane murder drama.

An evil smug formed across their cheeks accompanied by a heavy snort of satisfaction.

“Drop his miserable body at the edge! The motherfucker has finally succumbed to his demise!”

He instantly picked up his cell phone from his left pocket and dialed the last caller.

“Speak up. Is it done?” the caller promptly inquired with a clenched forehead.

“Michael Scofield is dead…”