The Prisoner Ba Paris の小説・ストーリー

"Keep moving." But my mind was spinning. Two cars exploded. Caught on camera. A masked man running through a street in Paris. I let out a slow breath I didn't realize I had been holding. If they had footage… If someone else was seen running from the scene… Then I definitely going to get out of here soon, but Jerald Lewis will pay for putting me behind bar, I'll make sure of that. I stepped into the cell area. The heavy metal door opened with a loud screech.

“Starting with you.” The prisoners immediately straightened slightly with each one desperate to answer quickly. “My name is Viktor sir.” The first prisoner answered almost instantly. “I'm Sergei.” The second followed. “I'm Anton.” The third spoke. “I'm called Maksim.” The final prisoner completed the introductions. The answers came rapidly almost competing with one another while Francesco listened quietly, his expression revealing very little as his fingers lightly tapped against the armrest of the chair. “If I am right those are your names, but I don't need that I need to know…what are your code names?” Francesco asked.

she whispered to herself before releasing a huge sigh and swiveling listlessly in her chair like a child. The door opened, and in came two guards escorting two inmates. One of them had a prosthetic leg and the other, a very skinny one who looked no older than a teenager. The skinny one smiled politely at her. “Bon apres-midi, mam’zelle. Mon ami here. He needs help." Yrah nodded and showed the guards to a bed who brought in the inmate with a prosthetic leg, followed by his young French friend who didn't seem eager to leave.

There was a lot of traffic today because it was warm and sunny. They were stopped due to some commotion up ahead. Pierre told her to stay inside. She did, but she opened the door to see. The police were chasing a man who tried to sneak into someone's home. The man was running through the carriages and saw her door open and jumped in and shut the door. When he looked up, they saw that they knew each other. It was Felipe. Pierre began to get down to remove the intruder, but Amaya shooed him off.

The prisoner breathed in the vapors and responded with a cough before slowly opening his eyes. "Who are you? Why did they bring you here?" asked the woman who until a while ago was Mira. Her voice was soft as she looked at the prisoner with concern. She saw that the prisoner was about to speak and she leaned her ear closer to hear him. The prisoner looked at her languidly and said in a weak voice, "El...Dion… Please… Let me go home…" After which, the prisoner closed his eyes and once again lost consciousness.

he asked himself as he looked around. HARRISON lurked around the restaurant as he noticed that the prisoner was already taken by the police yet he ordered someone to follow behind and find out more about that man. He looked up and looked through the buildings to see which one the sniper would've shot the gun. It wasn't long before he saw the building where the shot would have easily been taken.

Our names often overlap, and we tend to add physical features to distinguish one another. I step into the basement and switch on the single light. The bulb dangling from the ceiling casts a dim glow over the man tied to the chair. He’s bloody, covered in bruises and cuts, his clothes dirty and torn. Hair filthy, skin covered in filth. He’s been sitting in his own piss and shit for five days. Keeping a prisoner this long is risky. With each passing day, they get another chance to escape, to be discovered. We were lucky. “I hear they call you Vinnie the Nose,” I say as I lazily unbutton my jacket. “Walked around the city bragging about killing some kids. Is that right?”

“Barely twenty-four hours after he was released from cell, his life was ruthlessly snatched away from him, and this was after spending nights in jail after an attempted attack on Miss Alexa Silver…” “The cops are assuring residents that full investigation will be carried out and henceforth, security will be made available for their safety and comfort…” “This is a sad day for everyone in Paris…” “Regardless of what crime he might have committed, he is still a citizen of the state and doesn’t deserve what happened to him, especially if he has been released…” “Whoever killed him must have had it perfectly timed; fresh out of jail and at a time when no one was paying any attention…”

The guard’s voice ripped through the air: "GATEKEEPER!" With a deafening, thunderous roar, the massive gate began to descend. As it lowered, the inner courtyard was revealed inch by inch. The prisoners were a mosaic of distraction and despair; some prayed and chanted, others dissolved into heaving sobs, while some spat curses and insults at the stone walls. Lara, however, belonged to the silent ones. Externally, she was paralyzed by a profound stupor, unable to reconcile her reality: she was standing on the threshold of a prison—a place that was not her home...

Shysie said and took his hand and gave his wrist a lick to seal his wound. “Nothing. Everything.” Paris said and sped off back to the caged hunters, leaving Shysie happy about the developments. ‘Soon he will be mine again,’ she thought with a smile. *** Paris arrived back at the cage. “How are things going here?” Paris questioned on arrival. “Good. I think we can lift the cage while they are still sleeping and get out of here,” Wynn suggested. “Ok, great,” Paris said and walked to one side of the cage.