Prison Break Quotes Michael Scofield Novels & Stories

“He was trying to rape you!” “He was not!” she snaps at me, and it’s almost like the world goes on mute. “Oh, my God. Michael, are you okay? Shit. Talk to me, man. Don’t just die on me. Please, don’t die on me. I just got my best friend back and you’re not sending her to jail by dying. Get the hell up, man. Say something!” The man named Michael coughs, rolls onto his back, and coughs again. “Fuck. Why the hell would you hit me with a laptop?”

the horrified gasps from the audience of medical ethicists and human rights advocates as the full implications of his words registered. The camera panned to a handwritten note found in Michael's cell, displayed now behind protective glass as evidence: "Gravity always wins." Three words in Michael's distinctive handwriting. Three words that could be interpreted as philosophical resignation or coded defiance or simple acknowledgment of physical reality. Three words that now served as the epitaph for a man who had spent his life believing himself immune to the forces that constrained ordinary mortals.

He slumped back to the couch meditating on his words and the effect. On the bright side, Antony was semi out of danger. He could still for, but if he manages to survive, I won't be able to speak with him for weeks, or maybe months? He chuckled and ran his hands through his head, lowered it and shook vehemently. Not good. "Mr Scott ?" He raised his head. "And you are?" "I'm agent Michael, FBI." He introduced. Mr Scott rose up from the chair to shake his head. "I think we need to talk. I might have something that could interest us both."

Michaela ate the whole bowl. Storm smiled at her and asked, “Do you want more?” Michaela nodded her head and replied, “The soup is so delicious.” Then Storm fed her the second bowl. He praised her and said, “Well done, my love.” Then he kissed her on top of her head. Tears welled in Michaela’s eyes, and she said, “Thank you for loving me, my handsome husband. I never thought I would ever walk out of jail alive, but you saved my life once again.

Joe asked, her voice laced with exasperation. Michael smirked, pulling a protein bar out of his bag and sliding it across the table. “Thought you could use a break. Brain food.” Joe stared at the bar, then at him. “You’re like a persistent mosquito. What makes you think I need saving?” “Call it intuition,” Michael said, grinning, then casually, sliding a drink across the table. “Thought you might need this.” Joe glanced at the cup, then back at him, narrowing her eyes. “Caramel iced coffee, extra drizzle... again. You trying to bribe me or something?”

The announcement blasts loudly, ringing through my ears and lingering in my eardrums. Then I see the man who reigns terror among inmates—Victor Hale, his presence heavy, his face holding a grudge I cannot understand, like he wakes up every day looking for someone to break. “Name and bank number,” he questions impatiently. “Michael Hale.” “You a fanatic… are you a fanatic, Michael?” “Never been one,” I reply calmly. “You damn right, because even your God won’t help you here.” I smile a bitter smile, one that doesn’t reach my eyes. “I don’t need God in here.”

I have to think of a way out of this- If there is a way out of this. A short time later, Michael came into the cell with a medium-sized black bag that he dropped on the floor near the door. “Hello, again, little rat.” He greeted cheerfully as he walked over, looking down his nose. I looked away as I curled as tightly to the wall as I could. “You got yourself in an ultra-deep pit. I don’t think you’re going to be able to scurry out of this one. Even if Conor manages to make it.” He laughed coldly as I remained silent. “Judging by the last report, it’s really not looking good for him. You got him so fucked up.” Please hold on Conor. You have to fight, remember? Fight for our future!