"Ok... so how do you plan to get me out of here?"

Jack finally asks after he had calmed himself down. Mark bites his lip and lifts his free hand to rub the back of his neck with a small grin.

"See... that's the fun part... Let's just say you're getting transferred to a different prison."

Mark states simply, earning a confused look from the Irish man. Mark smiles a bit more as he pulls a pair of handcuffs from the belt of his guards uniform.

"Ok, well somebody may have arranged for you to get transferred. And I may be the officer to take you there."

Mark continues, clearly trying to be as mysterious about it as possible, most likely to annoy the Irish man. Jack rolls his eyes but doesn't ask anymore questions, simply standing up and shrugging his shoulders.

"Alright lets do it, officer man."

Jack replies with a teasing smirk. Mark chuckles quietly and grabs his hands gently putting them behind his back and cuffing them.

"Ready?"

Mark asks before they walk out the door. Jack adjusts his arms slightly, the handcuffs clearly not comfortable but nods, switching his slightly happy face to a slate blank of emotion.

Mark walks him out of the cell, shutting it behind him and through the halls, until they soon come to the front door, Mark walks him out and to one of the trucks, opening the back and gently helping Jack into the back of it, him sitting on one of the benches that lined the metal walls, his hands still uncomfortably cuffed behind his back.

Before Mark can close the door another officer walks up and places a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Officer Petrov was it?"

The male officer asks before looking over to the Irish man who sat in the back of the truck, shooting a slightly confused look at Mark.

"What are you doing?"

Mark hesitates before turning around and looking at the other guard, he clears his throat before finally speaking.

"Sean Mcloughlin is being transferred, they put me in charge of it."

The red haired man states in a horrible Russian accent. The bad accent almost making Jack burst into a fit of laughter, though he holds it back, a small amused smile simply sat on his face though he turned his head to hide it. Despite how bad the accent was the other guard didn't question simply nodding.

"Ah, right. Damn my memory isn't very good."

The officer jokes, Mark giving him a small laugh and nodding.

"Need any help? I can get another person to ride along with you."

The guard suggests with a slight tilt of his head. Mark shakes his own head.

"No need, I can handle it."

Mark replies in his bad accent, making it almost immpossible for the Irish man to contain his laughter. The other officer leave, after a quick goodbye and Mark turns around.

Jack had finally burst into a fit of laugher, nearly falling off of his seat, tears brimmed his eyes as he laughed, hardly able to catch his breath. Mark rolls his eyes though smiles slightly, resisting the urge to laugh himself as he closes the back door, climbing into the drivers seat, only able to see Jack through a small barred window that sat behind his head.

He drives until they soon are out of the prison and on a fairly empty road. Mark reaches into his pocket, keeping his eyes on the road and tosses back the set of handcuff keys, simply leaving Jack to unlock them himself.

After quite a bit of complaining the Irish man gets the cuffs off and leans against the barred window, his laugher had died down but an amused grin still sat spread across his face.

"So uh... Officer Petrov?"

Jack asks with a raise of his eyebrow. Mark releases a chuckle and looks in his mirror at Jack with a smile.

"Yep, I was a cop in Russia who moved to America."

Mark explains simply.

"Pretty convicing accent though huh?"

The red haired man asks putting on his bad accent once again. Jack laughs with a roll of his eyes and looks at the man.

"Very convincing. I was worried for a second you weren't my Mark."

Jack responds teasingly earning a chuckle from the red haired man as they continue driving.

After about five minutes on the mostly empty road Mark pulls into an old abandoned parking lot that sat on the side before hopping out and letting Jack out as well. The only other car in the parking lot was a small white Honda, which Mark pulls keys out for and unlocks, climbing in the drivers side as Jack climbs in the passenger side.

"You really planned this out huh?"

Jack smiles proudly at the man.

"How the hell did you get accepted as a Russian cop, and how the hell did you get me transferred though?"

Jack asks raising an eyebrow at the red haired man who had taken his guards hat off, leaving his red hair a disheveled mess.

"Lets just say, I've learned a few tricks from an experienced hacker."

Mark states simply reaching into the back seat and moving a few things out of the way before coming out with the familiar laptop, with the green eye symbol on the back, and making Jack's smile grow.

"You son of a bitch, I'm so proud of you!"

Jack exclaims grabbing his computer like it was his own child, cradling it in his arms. Mark rolls his eyes but says nothing as he starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot, onto the road once again.

"Oh by the way, there are extra clothes in the back if you want to change out of that old shit."

Mark adds gesturing to the back seat as he does so. Jack looks down at his clothing he wore now a simple white t-shirt and gray sweats, the only clothes he had at the prison. He reaches into the back seat happily, digging around a bit until he found a pair of jeans and a blue sweatshirt.

He smiles and grabs them.

"I can pull over if you want to cha-"

Mark begins but is stopped as Jack simply undoes his seatbelt and strips his clothing in the moving car. After a few minutes, and quite the struggle, he now wore the fresh clothes and tossed the others into the back seat.

"I could've pulled over..."

Mark mutters with a roll of his eyes shooting a glance over to the Irish man who simply beamed at him.

"Nah, it's better to keep moving."

~~~~~~~~At the Prison~~~~~~~~~

"I need to see Sean Mcloughlin."

The man says in a British accent to the guard at the front of the prison. PJ is led inside to a desk where the person types up the name in an old computer, to find what cell he was kept in.

"I'm sorry sir, Mcloughlin was just moved."

The female guard at the desk states, earning a confused glare from the Brit.

"Moved? What in bloody hell does that mean?"

The brown haired man snarls soflty, the girl giving him a warning glance before responding.

"It means he was transferred. By order of Mr. Liguori."

The female finally responds, struggling slightly with the last name. PJ narrows his eyes at the girl, his green eyes showing how much his brain was working, trying to figure out what the hell happened.

"I never ordered him to be transferred...."

PJ murmurs under his breath pushing a hand through his bronw hair before his green eyes light up with recognition, soon turning to anger as he releases a snarl under his breath, just barely audible.

"Fischbach... that son of a bitch..."

PJ growls before pushing away from the desk and storming outside, out of the prison and into his car, slamming the door behind him before he starts it, driving off angrily.

"I swear to god, I'm not letting you get away this time..."