Dark Universe Series: Prison Break.

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Continuing the Dark Universe series. Read 'Dark Beginnings' first if you haven't already.

Taking extreme liberties. Not making any money. Though Lady Caw-Caw is thinking of setting up her own internet site, so you never know.

Rating: This is really more a T than an M but I don't want to encourage youngsters to this series. It may well go to some truly reprehensible places. This episode is not suitable for young children though.

Warnings: This is *AU*. The guys as you know them are role models. These guys are not. Boys and girls, when your mummies and daddies tell you not to swear, tell lies, drink and take drugs, play with matches, guns, knives, have wild sex with strangers, or simply complain when you take absolutely no notice of them, you really should listen. Otherwise, this is what could happen.

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Life goes on on the island, and the boys run into a teensy-weensy bit of trouble springing their jail-bird.

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Chapter 1

...

The sun beat down on the little island hideaway that was home to a remarkable new venture.

At first glance, the villa looked unremarkable. That is to say that it looked like nothing more remarkable than the remarkably expensive home of a remarkably rich billionaire.

Sitting outside, sunning themselves, were four young men, who looked like nothing more remarkable than four rich, handsome, eligible sons of said billionaire.

"I've been wondering," observed the rich billionaire's fourth son, Gordon, "whether we've really thought this through all the way?"

His eldest brother, Scott, turned to stare at him through his shades. Virgil and Alan turned to stare at Scott. Both of them gripped their respective pool-side chairs a little harder.

"What might I not have thought through?" Scott asked. He sounded calm enough, though the use of the first person singular wasn't lost on any of them.

Gordon uncrossed his legs and planted his feet apparently casually on the ground. "It isn't the plan itself, you understand? It's a great plan. No way can a plan like that not work. No, it's more the general concept of the thing."

Scott frowned. "Not following you here, Gordon."

"Well the whole rescuing John thing."

"He can't really be an effective part of the team while he's in jail, now can he?" Scott pointed out reasonably.

"I can't argue with you there," Gordon said. He was learning to be reasonable himself when the occasion demanded it. "But I was sort of wondering what Dad will say when he sees him?"

Scott shrugged. "We'll just tell him Johnnie was paroled early for good behavior. He'll never think to check."

"Well, actually…"

Scott's eyebrows raised ever so faintly over the shades.

"…Dad was asking questions the other day. I might have let it drop that John still has twenty-three years of a twenty-five year sentence left to serve. I think even Dad might get suspicious if he suddenly turns up."

Scott looked at Gordon for a long moment. "Okay," he said at length. "We'll just have to make sure that he never sees Alan and John at the same time. So long as we remind John to answer to 'Alan' we'll be home and dry."

Gordon grinned. "Even Dad isn't that bad."

"He's almost that bad," Alan mused. "He keeps asking me how my doctoral thesis is going."

"We could disguise him, maybe," Virgil said doubtfully.

"This is what we like," Scott said approvingly. "Positive thinking. We'll dye his hair and pass him off as some relative of Brains."

Alan's mouth twisted. "I like it. We could call him Bill. I've always thought he looked like a Bill."

Virgil frowned. "Now you're just being silly. It would only be a matter of time until someone slipped up and called him by the wrong name."

"Virgil's right. No pseudonyms. 'John' is common enough," Scott said. "This could work. It's been ages since Dad's seen him.

"Okay," Gordon said hastily. "But it's more about whether we should include him on the team at all."

"Whether we should include him on the team?" Scott repeated blankly.

"If it was anything else, anything aside from rescues and disasters…but I'm thinking, in all those disasters, there are bound to be some that…that…you know…that are gonna have…"

Scott nodded in sympathy. "I understand, Gordon. But Johnnie won't be going out on rescues. Well, not many. He's got lots of other talents we can use. It's up to us to make him feel like a valued member of the team without giving him an opportunity to do anything that could – well - make things worse."

"So what can we find for him to do?"

Scott inclined his head. "All in hand. I've got the perfect place to put him. I've persuaded Dad that we need a space station." He sounded quite pleased with himself.

"A space station?" his brothers chorused as one.

"A space station. Think about it. We need a series of relays for radio signals. That means a satellite network. We're going to route the signals through the station. It'll need maintenance and the signals will need sifting. It's right up John's alley. He'll love it. And who'll think of looking for him there?"

Alan frowned. "But I'm supposed to be the astronaut. If there's a space station, shouldn't I be manning it?"

Scott tried his hardest not to roll his eyes before going into full big brother mode. "Well, yes, and some of the time you will," he said with emphasis. "Of course. You're right. You're the astronaut." He gave his brother's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I mean, we can't leave John up there all the time. He might start to think he was back in prison again. So we'll give him some rest breaks, and it'll be your job to relieve him. And you'll be the one piloting the space rocket that ferries him back and forward. You'll need to pass on a bit of your own astronaut training, of course."

This sounded like an important task. Alan rubbed absently at his shoulder and started thinking through the best ways to deliver John's training. If the prison break didn't work out this time then he could always devise a correspondence course in astronautics in preparation for their next attempt.

"So John will be here some of the time, and on a space station the rest of the time?" Gordon asked carefully.

"Oh, it'll be fine," Scott reassured him nonchalantly. "Brains was very accommodating. I told him that the space station needs to be completely non-combustible. And here – well," he gestured expansively, "there's lots of water around if we need it. Most of the house is made of glass. I even made sure the kitchen has a nuclear cooking range. No live flames." He glanced at Virgil. "Of course, you'll need to keep your lighter under lock and key."

"Or better still, give up smoking, " Alan said sourly.

Virgil's eyes narrowed a little dangerously.

"Okay, now, let's run through it all once more," Scott said hastily. "We stick to the plan. This is a strictly KISS operation. No deviation, no improvization. Keep it simple."

"He's obsessed with kissing," Alan observed sotto voce to Gordon.

"I heard that," Scott rapped out. "Virgil?"

"I get myself arrested holding up a liquor store."

"Good man. You'll plead guilty and they'll pack you straight off to San Paolo from the county lock-up. Once you're there…."

"Run it past me again. Why do I have to get myself thrown in jail?"

"Because we need a man on the inside," Scott said patiently. "And you're our man on the inside."

"But we already have a man on the inside. His name's John." Virgil smiled at his own little joke.

"Well, yes, but we don't have any way of letting him know our plans, or pinpointing his exact location, unless someone covertly contacts him. And I don't trust anyone outside the family to do it."

"But isn't there a three strikes policy in California? What about the incident with the chicken?"

"Weren't you a juvenile at the time?" Scott's eyes narrowed in thought. "I'm almost certain I applied to have those records sealed."

"Almost?"

"Anyway, all you have to do is stay out of California in the future. It won't be an issue."

"But why me?" Virgil protested.

"Well, I could lie to you," Scott said honestly. "I could say that I'm needed on the outside to make sure everything runs smoothly, and Gordon's needed on the outside because he's our best sharp-shooter and our demolitions expert, and that Alan's needed on the outside because he drives such a mean getaway car. But that would be lying to you. The truth of the matter, little brother, is that you're the least pretty of us."

"I am?" Virgil asked helplessly, unsure why this had any bearing on anything.

"You are. I thought my own days of attracting other guys were over until I was disabused of the notion when I was rescuing Gordon from his 'creditors'. And Gordon – well even Gordon would admit he's pretty."

Gordon gave Virgil a little shrug and a ruefully apologetic 'it's true' smile.

"As for Alan – well, I wouldn't dream of putting him in with a bunch of rapists and muggers. It would be like throwing a cheerleader into the end-of-game showers with the quarterbacks. No." Scott prodded Virgil in the chest for emphasis. "It has to be you, don't you see? I need someone who looks tough and mean."

Virgil considered this.

Prod. "Someone who can dish it out as well as take it."

Gordon and Alan exchanged glances.

Prod. "Someone who nobody's gonna mistake for a piece of fresh meat. And that someone, little brother, is you."

"Okay," Virgil said a little breathlessly. "I'll do it."

"Good man," Scott said approvingly. "You might wanna think about keeping the beard a while longer," he added as an after-thought. "Right. At that point I contact Tony Marchant to ensure Dad gets called to the mainland to deal with an 'emergency' at the company. That way he won't get suspicious when we all disappear off the island at the same time."

"How are you going to persuade Tony to do that?" Gordon asked curiously.

Scott reached into his wallet. He pulled out a set of photographs and handed one wordlessly to Gordon who raised an eyebrow and nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, that oughta do it."

Alan leaned over curiously. Scott snatched back the photo.

"What happens next?" Scott asked, looking at Virgil.

"I make sure that John and I are in the exercise yard exactly thirty minutes into visiting time on the third day after I'm taken into custody."

"Okay. Gordon?"

"Once Virgil's located John and got him into the right area, I move into place with the explosives and stand by. If all's well, you'll send me the signal to blow the fence as soon as the diversion is underway."

"Good. Alan?"

"On your signal I swoop in with the getaway car and the four of us high-tail it out of there. Ten miles down the road you'll be driving a twelve-wheeler down the main highway. I drive in and we're home and dry."

"There you go. Elegant and simple. What could possibly go wrong?"

There was a long and uncharacteristic silence.