Deutschtard (deutschtard) wrote in _prisonbreak,

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The Not-So-Magnificent Seven

Title: The Not-so-Magnificent Seven
Author(s): deutschtard, with MUCH help from sterilizetheemo
Characters: Michael, Lincoln, Abruzzi, T-Bag, C-Note, Sucre, Westmoreland, Tweener
Warnings: TOTALLY AU, Crack!fic, slight graphic language/situations
Summary: “You Numnutz, you can't go ape unless we put the rings together!”
Rating: R for language and slight graphic nature
Author(s) Notes: Comments are my drug, please help me feed my habit.
-bows to sterilizetheemo- without you, this bunny would have gone to the bunny graveyard

“Oh HELL no!” C-Note said as he rifled through the newly bought clothes, “No. When did we decide that dressin' alike meant we had to dress like nerds?” He yelled at Sucre.

“Hey, papi, we gotta keep our identities secret man. Don't make me go ape and rip you apart, I ain't dressin' like this 'cause I want to.”

“You numnutz, you can't go ape unless we put the rings together, what part of “Ethnic Wonder Twins” don't you understand? Gemelos, man, we both have to do it.”

“Well fine. Just wear the damned sweater vest. It goes with the sandals and khakis.”

“Don't tell me I have to wear these too?” He said, holding up a pair of black socks.

“It's all part of the outfit, hombre, get used to it.”

“Would y'all kindly shut your ethnic mouths?” T-Bag said from the window, “I'm tryin' to have some fun.” He focused his eyes back on the young woman outside again as her moans echoed into the house. “That's right, honey, let your hands wander down south for ol' Teddy, mmmm, right there, just like-- OW!!” A rogue cassette tape bounced harshly off the back of his neck.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Teddy, no mind raping the Jenkins girl, She'll figure out what's happening eventually.” Michael said, bending over to get his enormous head through the doorway.

“Oh, but my big-headed-pretty, her parents already have her seein' a shrink, they think she's 2 kinds of crazy, absolutely bonkers.” His tongue flitted between his teeth and traced the outline of his lower lip. It was unceremoniously grabbed by Michael's mind and held out at it's full length.

“I don't even know why I agreed to let you live here. If you so much as make her hot and bothered again, so help me, I'll rip out your tongue myself.”

“But you koodn't hoit ne ith you wanted to, twetty,” Teddy said, his tongue still being held firmly, “You can't hoit anydody. Yoah dwain woant wet you hoit teettle.” He grinned and thought about the girl again, another moan floating in through the window.

“Dammit, I said stop!!” He let go of his tongue and telekenetically raised him up by his shirt collar.

“Stop this immediately!” came a booming voice from across the room. Michael whipped around and was face to face with Charles Westgandland, the White Convict.

“But Gan- I mean Charles, he was doing it again.” Michael said staunchly, his mind not letting go of the shirt collar that was in its grasp.

“That matters not. The third age of men is now upon us, and he has a right to use his ability.”

“Not on teenagers he doesn't!” Michael stalked off and stopped thinking, letting T-Bag fall harshly from his grip, right into the open trash can.

“Lord have mercy, this is disgusting!” he said, wiping coffee grounds and an unknown green goo off his ass.

“John-boy, why hasn't this damn garbage been taken care of?!” He glared at the Italian as he watched the television.

“It's on a schedule, Theodore, I don't have to touch the trash until 9. It's only 8:30.” He said, not taking his eyes off the screen as the man sobbed on the unconscious woman in the hospital bed.

“You know what I'm gon' do if you don't.” Teddy smiled, focusing on John's brain as his eyelids fluttered shut.

“Hey! Don't---don't you. . . don't stop. . .” his back arched in the chair as his blue eyes rolled back into his head. “NO!!” he yelled as he leapt up and covered his groin with the TV Guide to hid his obvious hard-on. “I'll deal with the trash.”

“I knew you'd see it my way soon enough.” T-Bag cackled. John stomped over and grabbed the back to take it out back. He placed it in the oil drum and waved his hand, causing it to instantly incinerate. Nodding his head, the small inferno went out as commanded and he flopped back down into his chair.

“If you made me miss Chastity's test results, you're the next thing going into that oil drum.” He glowered at Teddy and went back to watching his soap, a rerun on that soap opera network. The phone rang, and since it was on Michael's desk, he picked it up.


“Michael. . .” the voice whimpered from the other end, “It's me.”

“Hey Linc, hold on. . . Will you all shut up! C-note, Sucre, you can go shopping again tomorrow for new clothes you both like, just stop arguing. T-Bag, go sit in your room and think about the reality TV stars on your screen, but leave Jessica alone! John, for God's sake, turn your soap down!” He bellowed, holding the receiver to his chest. Putting it back to his ear, he said,

“Okay, Linc, what's up?”

“Mi-Michael, they made fun of me again.” Lincoln cried.

“Who was it this time? What happened?”

“Well, I was sitting there, minding my own business right? And some mountain man redneck comes up and starts laughing at his buddies that I was cryin' into my beer.”

“Well. . .were you?”

“Yeah—But that's not the point. Can you guys come down here to kick their asses?” he sobbed.

“Alright, we'll be there in a moment.” Michael slammed the phone down and rolled his eyes. “Guys, come on, Linc wants us to go to the bar.” he said unenthusiastically.

“Aww, man!” said the wonder twins, C-Note still grumbling as he put the sandals on over his black socks.

“I don't see why he doesn't just drink at home. He can handle us making fun of him.” Abruzzi wondered out loud, grabbing the keys.

“Oh no, man. We're ridin' in style tonight!” Sucre said, standing in the street. “C'mere C-Note!” The black man sighed audibly and shuffled out to him. “No minivans this time, okay?”

“Ethnic Wonder Twins, Combine!” the rings hit each other as the glow erupted from their meeting.

“Form of, a Limousine!” With that, Sucre burst into a black stretch limo, lowered with 22s and hydraulics.

“You have GOT to be kidding me.” Theodore said. C-Note sighed again and said,

“Shape of. . .a limo driver.” As the clothes on his body morphed into a chauffeur's uniform.

“Get in, fellas, ride the Fernando express,” the car said, raising the front end up and winking its left headlight.

“Oh, Sucre, out of all the cars you could have chosen, you picked a tricked out limo?” Michael groaned, putting his thirty-gallon baseball cap on.

“Look, papi, I even put the sunroof right over your seat.” Fernando the limo laughed and opened the door as they all got in.


“Aww, baby, what'd ya do, call your MOMMY?” Bubba said, slapping Lincoln's back and guffawing drunkenly.

“No, I called my friends. You're gonna wish you never made fun of me.” He seethed through gritted teeth, tears still streaming down his cheeks.

“Aww, what're they gonna do? Drown me in a vat of your tears?!” Holding out his hand, all his buddies gave him high-fives for this apparently hilarious joke.

“That's it, you asked for it.” Lincoln stood up and put his hand on Bubba's stomach.

“What are you, some kinda fag? Get offa me!” All of a sudden, tears welled up in the hicks eyes. He started bawling like a baby, much to the bewilderment of his cohorts.

“Mama never loved me, and-a-and Daddy used to. . .he used to touch me at night!” He sputtered, smacking his head on the bar over and over again. “I just wanna die!” He grabbed a pretzel stick from the bowl and jabbed it into his neck, screaming in a mixture of agony, sadness, and happiness. His buddies were shocked as they ripped it out of him, drenching themselves in their friend's blood. Bubba cried out,

“J-just let me d-d-die. . .” and with that, he went limp, still oozing from his ncek.

“What the fuck was that?” Jim-Bob yelled, confused as hell.

“I dunno, but let's get outta here!” Ricky pulled Jim-Bob and the others towards the door, but they stopped dead in their tracks as six men blocked their exit.

“You must be the ones who were laughing at my friend,” Sucre said, gritting his teeth.

“N-No, we ain't them, they left out-- out the back door, yeah, they went out the back door.” Ricky stammered fearfully.

“Mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm,” T-Bag cooed, coming up on Jim-Bob, “Ain't you a nice piece o' flesh?”

“Hey, I ain't no faggot. . .” Jim-Bob said, eyes wide with apprehension.

“Well that's just fine, because neither am I.” T-Bag grabbed the back of his jacket and flung him against the wall, thinking him into peals of ecstasy. Meanwhile, John just went crazy, flicking his hand and engulfing half the bar goers in flames.

“Ethnic Wonder Twins, Combine!!”

“Form of, a Piñata!!” Sucre cried, turning into a multi-tonal tissue paper covered donkey.

“Shape of--- wait, how the fuck is a piñata going to help us?” C-Note growled.

“I-I don't know, I froze up,” Donkey Sucre said, hobbling over into a corner on his stiff cardboard legs.

“Now what the fuck are we supposed to do? Hang you up and beat you and pray you're filled with teargas?” As the Wonder Twins were busy arguing, Michael was frantically trying to put out all the burning bodies and tables, screaming after Abruzzi to stop, trying to hold the man's arm still, but John's will was too strong. Most of the people who were still alive were holed up behind the bar, and John was on a collision-course for it.

“Linc, touch Abruzzi, NOW!!” Michael bellowed over the flames and terrified yelling.

“Wha? Ooookay.” Linc then ran up behind the mafia man and grabbed his forehead.

“Get the fuck off o' me, I want to kill---myself. . .” John crumpled in a heap of sobs and whimpers as he curled up into the fetal position and sucked his thumb, “Mommy I don't want the G.I Joe for my birthday. . .” He muttered. Lincoln stood up and scanned the room for anyone left. He heard a mixture of laughter and a sound he couldn't quite place coming from behind one of the overturned tables and went to investigate. Ready to kill, hands outstretched, he peered over the oaken circle.

“Oh---Teddy, that's just. . .just wrong.” T-Bag was sitting on a chair watching a half naked redneck shove a beer bottle up his ass as he stroked himself off.

“Come an' join the party, boy, plenty o' room behind the table for the likes of you.”

“Just. . .never mind.” Linc dismissed the two men with a wave of his hands, as if pushing the image away from his line of sight. Once again, he went to scanning the room until he noticed the Wonder Twins bickering in the corner.

“I swear, if you don't change into something useful right now, I'll turn into a baseball bat and bash your stupid rainbowcoloredtissuepaperface in!!” C-Note growled.

“Hey! Don' go blamin' me all the time, I wouldn't have changed into a freakin' piñata if you'd given me mas tiempo to figure out what to turn into!” The piñata he knew to be Sucre said, bumping harshly into C-Note's leg. Lincoln quickly picked up Sucre as C-Note grasped his leg in pain.

“Hey, both of you calm the fuck down. Mikey, fix this please?” He called out to his harried-looking brother.

“Hm? Oh sure, there.” He snapped his fingers and all of a sudden, Sucre was in Linc's arms as if ready to be carried over the threshold. Unceremoniously, Lincoln dropped him and hung his head.

“I wish someone cared about me enough to fight with me like that.” He murmured, tears visibly falling to the floor from his down turned eyes. “I'm sittin' in the men's room until this is over.”

“ENOUGH!” The White Convict bellowed, slamming the butt end of his staff to the floor and freezing time. All but the team became instantly frozen. The team and one other young soul.

“Yo, dogs, that was the shiznit, man! I gotz skillz too, know what I'm sayin? Listen to this.” David Apolskis grabbed a pistil, hopped up on the bar, and wielded it like a microphone. T-Bag's eye was obviously caught by the stranger, having no more interest in the now frozen man with a beer bottle in his ass.

“What a pretty Tweener we have here.” he commented, zipping up his fly and giving the young man his undivided attention.

“Yo, yo, yo, My name be D.O.A an' I'm here fo yo mo-nay. You'd betta give it up or my DNA's in yo ho-nay. D.O.A, dead on arrival, when you hear my fly rhymes, you won't be alive 'cause the flyness blows yo mind. D.O.A here to stay and I—eeeeehhhhhhhhhh. . . ooooohhhhhhhh. . .” his eyes closed and his hand gravitated to his crotch as he shoved it down the front of his pants, much to the shock of the audibly wounded men.

“Linc, slap him, he's doin' it again.” Michael whispered as the Sink took the hint and backhanded T-Bag.

“What? Can't a guy have a little fun?” he said as innocently as he could sound.

“Alright. . .so you rap so badly it makes our eardrums nearly explode. We should let you hang with us. . .why??” C-Note asked sarcastically.

“Yo my brotha, you of all people should know, my beats was off the CHAIN!”

“No. . .they weren't.” Was the general consensus. Even the now recovered Abruzzi chimed in. David jumped off the bar and came up to them.

“Aw, c'mon dogs, PLEEEEASE?” The last word was so loud it sent the group to their knees in agony.

“N-NO, man, you suck, go away!” One of them yelled over the noise.


“NO!” Michael spouted his opinion, because his entire head looked even more so like it was about to expode than usual, as the supersonic frequency of the whines increased.

PLEEEEEEEEA--” a “KABLAMMO” was heard as the team looked up to see this young man's body falling to the floor like party confetti. They all immediately thanked John, who's arm was still raised.

“No, John, that was not right. He deserves a chance at life just as you do.” said Westgandland as he reinstated David's life.

“No. Did you not hear how annoying he was?” Abruzzi complained, flicking his hand and blowing him up again.

“Stop that, John.” Charles said, reconstituting his body's form.

“Hey, y'allz betta stop dis fo shizzle, 'cause I ain't abo--”

“I can't STAND that for one more second, Charles, he STAYS dead!” said John, lowering his hand and glowering at the bearded man, who sighed dejectedly.

“Alright, John. But the next time Theodore tries to violate you, not one of us is going to stop him.” Michael put his hat back on straight and made sure everyone was rounded up.

“Let's go everyone, before the cops show up.” The ragtag bunch filed out the doors as he counted, “Three, four, five, six. . .C'mon Linc, we gotta go.” He called out, unable to see his brother. “Dammit, where are you?” After a few seconds, Michael found him behind the bar talking to the bartender.

“I wish I could be as cool as you, everyone seems to love you. . .you make my heart bleed on the inside.” He said through choked back tears before touching the poor man, sending him into fits of sobs as well. Michael sighed audibly and telekenetically grabbed his brother's jacket.

“C'mon, it's time to go, bro. We can talk about it at home, okay?” He nearly cooed to the sniveling mess that hovered before him on its way out the door.

“O-Okay. . .” he sniffled, “that sounds g-g-good.” Lincoln whimpered, being set in the Sucre-mobile and buckled in. Michael took one look at all of them and put them to sleep, all except the Wonder Twins of course, they were the ride home. Michael sat awake listening to everyone sleep. Linc happened to be a talker tonight.

“You hurt my soul with your plastic smile. . .” He mumbled before drifting off again.

“Well, at least T-Bag's not do-oo. . .oooooooo. . .” he paused, rubbing his hands up and down his stomach before realizing what was happening. “Dammit Teddy!” He said as he launched the closest hard object at him through his mind.

“OW!! We agreed no glass bottles!” Said the southerner, rubbing his head gingerly where he had been struck.

“Yeah, we also agreed that I'm off limits.” Michael scowled.

“All part of the fun, big-headed-pretty, all part of the fun.”

“All of you, shut up, or I'll blow up every single one of you.” Abruzzi shot out, glaring at them all.

“Fine, no more talking, anybody. And Teddy, no more trying to mind fuck me.” T-Bag shifted away from Michael's death glare and pouted the rest of the way home until the car suddenly stopped. C-Note got out of the driver's seat and ran to the front.

“What's wrong, man?” He asked the car, clearly worried.

“I-I. . .Well, I sprung a leak.” He said a little to loudly to be kept private. Four cacophonous growls echoed through the night.


Tags: fanfic
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