The sky above the maximum-security prison was bruised purple, the sun long gone, leaving a cold, metallic darkness to creep across the yard. Inside Cell Block C, Alex rubbed the rough concrete walls, tracing the faint scratches he had made over weeks. Maps, plans, and routes danced across his mind like a choreographed nightmare. Every guard rotation, every camera sweep...he knew them all. Tonight was the night.
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He flexed his hands over the chains, feeling the weight of the day. Memories of a life behind bars flashed wrongfully accused, betrayed by the system, nights filled with whispered threats and cold steel. He had learned patience, and patience had brought him this , the possibility of freedom.
He dropped silently into the maintenance room. The smell of oil and old machinery filled his lungs. Wrenches, pipes, and dusty toolboxes lined the walls. He grabbed a wrench, his hand tightening around it like a lifeline. The clang of metal from somewhere else in the room made him freeze. A guard’s voice carried: “Did I hear something?” Alex melted into the shadows, praying the guard would move on. The seconds felt like hours, but soon the footsteps faded.
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Through a narrow window, he could see the main gate his ticket out. Cameras swept like predators. Guards walked predictable paths, and Alex memorized every second. A quick distraction, a tossed pipe, and two guards scurried off to investigate. The path cleared.
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He ran, slipping past blind spots, sliding under fences, crawling over jagged rocks. The high-voltage gate stood between him and the night. Sweat stung his eyes as he punched the keypad with the stolen keycard, watching as the lights turned green. One step at a time, he moved closer to freedom.
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When the guard’s footsteps echoed down the corridor, Alex pressed against the wall, holding his breath. The footsteps passed. He pulled a bent metal rod from beneath his mattress, sliding it into the cell lock. The mechanism groaned but yielded. One slow push, one careful pull, and the door creaked open. Freedom smelled faintly like rust and sweat.
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The corridor beyond was narrow, dimly lit by flickering bulbs. He hugged the shadows, moving silently past sleeping inmates and the occasional wandering guard. A loose vent grating caught his eye. Sweat trickled down his temple as he pried it open, the metal biting into his palms. He climbed in, metal scraping, heart hammering in rhythm with the pounding alarms of his imagination.
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Hours seemed to stretch into minutes as he crawled through the ventilation shafts. Pipes steamed, dripping water that hissed against the hot metal. Alex whispered under his breath, counting steps, timing movements with the guards’ rotations.
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The courtyard was a battlefield. Dogs barked, guards shouted, lights cut through the night like lasers. Alex ducked behind barrels, bullets zipping past, thudding into the ground inches from his feet. Adrenaline surged; every muscle screamed. He rolled, sprinted, and jumped. Over the fence. Over the wall. Every leap was a prayer.
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Finally, he reached the waiting car, engine running, tires hot against the asphalt. He dove in, heart pounding, and slammed the pedal to the floor. Sirens screamed behind him, lights flashing. The night swallowed him as he raced through the streets of the city, chaos trailing in his wake.
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The safehouse waited like a shadowed sanctuary. Alex slumped in the driver’s seat, hands trembling. He pulled out a crumpled note found earlier: “This isn’t over.” His lips curled into a tight, grim smile. Outside, the prison’s lights still danced, alarms still ringinga reminder that escape was only the beginning.
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Alex leaned back, closing his eyes, knowing he had survived the nightbut freedom had its price. The city was dark, the streets unforgiving, and somewhere in the shadows, new threats were waiting. This was no victory, only a temporary reprieve.
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He whispered to himself, voice raw and steady: “Tonight… I’m alive. Tomorrow… we plan the rest.”
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and then Add to home screen.