The process of being thrown into prison was instantaneous. The moment Emerald arrived they took all of her on-hand possessions, including her clothes, leaving her wearing only some drab, button-up dress. The fabric was thin enough that she could feel the sharp cold of the steel bench the prisoners were ordered to sit on. Apparently, they had to wait for the warden to arrive before going off to their cells.

So there Emerald sat, back slouched, fingers picking at the folded wool blanket they gave her, her mind reeling for something to focus on. The entire room offered no solace, it was all grey brick and concrete. The residents themselves looked normal as well, albeit tired and dejected. Even the scent was plain, yet stale, as if to symbolize the whole experience.

The only light in the room came from the man-made bit streaming through large frosted window facing the heart of the prison. Emerald immediately perked up when a large, yet feminine, silhouette walked across the other side of the window, stopping in front of the also paned door. As the warden opened the door, she was illuminated in the fluorescent light of the hallway behind her.

"And now ladies and gentlemen: the keeper of the keys. The countess of the clink. The mistress of murderer's row: Lil' Miss Mama Malachite!"

"On your feet!" One of the guards accompanying the large blonde commanded the prisoners.

"Welcome, ladies," the warden, Miss Malachite, smiled and nodded to them all. She moved forward, scanning and patrolling the women. "Now you might think I'm here to make your life a living hell, but that simply isn't true."

"Ask any of the chickees in my pen." The voluptuous woman sang through a feathered-fan, with a shimmering gold dress to match. The dress was floor length, which was the only thing really 'classy' about it. "They'll tell you I'm the greatest mother… hen. I love them all and all of them love me. Because the system works, the system called…"

"I can be your friend, if you want me to," she continued. "So, if there's anything that happens that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable in any way," she whipped around to face them, "don't shoot your fat-ass mouth off to me because I don't give a shit. Now move out!"

All of the prisoners filed out numbly, with Emerald at the back. When she reached the door, however, Malachite blocked her way. Emerald gulped back all panic and simply stared at her shoes.

"Black, was it? Or do you prefer Sustrai? Either way," Emerald resisted the urge to snap Malachite's fingers off when the lady brushed her fingers through her unkept green hair, "you're one of the pretty ones."

Emerald stuck with a simple: "Thank you, Miss Malachite."

"Please, call me Mama. I'm here to take care of you, after all," Emerald felt Mama's large hand grip the back of the now-prisoner's neck, guiding her to the real 'jail.' "Now, I'm taking you to E block. Murderess row we call it."

"You know," Emerald murmured, "I don't think I really belong anywhere in here. I didn't actually really do anything wrong."

"No need to tell me, sweetheart," the warden waved her free hand dismissively. "I ain't never heard of a murdered man who didn't have just what was coming to him." As they walked farther down the hallway, it began to open wider with cells lining the brown brick. Inside of them were women, most wearing their own clothes, which was something Emerald definitely had to get in on. If Mercury would even send any, the bastard. Emerald felt Mama tugging her towards a cell with a dainty hand waving through the bars.

Emerald couldn't help but gasp when she saw who the hand belonged to. Neo Politan. The petite woman's hair was no longer perfectly styled, now worn out and up in a do-rag. Neo excitedly waved a newspaper in front of Mama, a smug yet ecstatic smile plastered on the mute's face. On the front page the paper declared in giant, bold letters: 'Not in Memory Do We Recall Such a Horrible and Fiendish Double Homicide.'

"Sweetie you couldn't buy that kind of publicity," Mama laughed heartily. Neo made an innocent face and shrugged, suddenly lifting her skirt to reveal a garter with cash stuffed in it. Mama scoffed and took the money. Then tossed a pack of cigarettes into Neo's cell.

"…reciprocity." Malachite began to strut across the stage to the luscious melody. "Got a little motto, always sees me through: when you're good to Mama, Mama's good to you."

For every cell block they passed, more women sneakily gave Mama payment. The woman in return gave them any sort of wares she had stuffed in the cleavage of her uniform.

"There's a lot of favors, I'm prepared to do. You do one for Mama, she'll do one for you." She began to make her way through the audience, much to their delight. "They say life is tit for tat, and that's the way I live. So, I deserve a lot of tat, for what I've got to give!"

Mama led Emerald up a set of spiraling metal stairs. When they reached the balcony, Emerald's apparent new room was one of the first on the right.

"It's already quite early," Mama said, not unsympathetically. "You have around a two hour's sleep before morning alarm goes off. Don't let the bed bugs bite." Emerald nodded, stepping into the cage.

"When you're good to Mama, Mama's good to you."

The cell door rattled as it was shut and locked. Emerald hummed along to the song as she curled up on her chilled mattress with her blanket. Mama walked away to go see some other inmates, heels clicking alongside a leaky pipe in Emerald's cell. When someone in the next cell began to rap their fingernails against the cell wall and distort the music's beat, Emerald gave up and decided to attempt at sleep. The first twenty-four hours in the slammer had begun.