My first night in prison was a sleepless one. Lights out came and went and I just laid down on my bottom-bunk bed. Thinking. Thinking about many things. Thinking about that robbery, remembering every detail. Thinking about the 'loyal' gangsters that I trusted once upon a time. Then… I thought about Mumei.

Oh, I thought about Mumei.

Where are you now, birdie?

Did you get out alright?

…

Did you betray me too?

…

Thoughts like these lingered over me as I watched the moon rise and fall through the barred windows of my cell. Even though my cellmate Botan slept peacefully, I didn't get a wink of sleep. Who needs beauty sleep anyways, am I right?

I don't. I'm perfect the way I am.

…

At least that's what I tell myself.

Damn, I hate being alone with my thoughts.

Is that why Watson and Takanashi carried those notepads?

I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to ask them.

As the sun started to rise in the horizon, and as the scene outside my window went from pitch black to periwinkle, the prison block started stirring to life. Metal doors creaked open and the jackboots of prison guards filled the block and reached my ears. Then, police batons clanked against the bars as the lady cops yelled, "WAKE UP, MAGGOTS!"

I'm already awake, dumbasses!

The top bunk above me shifted. Then, Botan Shishiro looked down at me, covering the sunlight.

"Oh, you're already awake." Botan mused.

"Unfortunately." I answered.

"Heh. Well, I hope you're ready for some exercise." Botan sat up on her bunk, letting her feet and her lion's tail dangle down, "It's Tuesday. After breakfast, our Block's on Mine-Craft duty."

"Mine-Craft?" I asked.

"We're mining, and we're crafting, comrade." Botan hopped off the top bunk and landed on her feet with perfect balance, "There's a marble quarry out back - and we've got a tin can factory over by Block C. At the opposite end of Fort Whiskey."

"Prison labor, huh…" I grumbled. I remembered Chief Enma mentioning something about 'putting the lowlives to work' back when she ran City PD up North. I didn't expect The Nation's capital to lead the charge there.

"It's not Pekoland's diamond mines, so I'm not complaining." Botan shrugged, her tail swishing behind her, "Come on. If we get to the cafeteria early, we might get something that's actually edible."

"Heh. Don't get my hopes up, friend." I snorted.

The prison guards came by our cell and opened it. Then, Botan and I went to the mess hall for our grub.

Scrambled eggs and… well… scrambled eggs. And not the good kind either. It looked like the yellow schlop that you get at the Eugenia Medical Center back in The City. At least, that's what Detective Watson told me once upon a time. She basically lived in the hospital for a good while, so Watson would have known.

Either way, the prison cooks served the schlop to us on metal trays that made the food even more unappealing. That made it seem like… eh… I should stop describing this crap. I'll lose what little appetite I have left.

"If you're lucky, you might get an eggshell in there." Botan snickered, grinning cheekily as the cooks ladled the schlop onto our trays, "Extra calcium."

"You're pretty used to this crap, aren't you, Botan?" I chimed, as we found our seats. We sat across from each other and started to eat our 'food', "Eugh…"

"It is what it is. I've been here three years already… and my life outside of these walls wasn't really much better." Botan explained, looking at me from across the table. She pointed her fork at me and added, "Get everything taken away from you and the little things start to become more meaningful."

I poked at my yellow schlop and twisted my lips, "... I guess I'm gonna have to start getting used to this."

Botan nodded and continued to eat. I tried to follow suit… emphasis on 'try'.

Not long after, the prison guards came by again and made us all stand in a line. They marched us out of the mess hall and towards the quarry at the back of Fort Whiskey. All the while, the guards watched us closely from the prison's many watchtowers, brandishing their Thompson submachine guns.

We reached the quarry before long. I was expecting to see some deep, cavernous pit with loads of exposed rocks like you see in the motion pictures, but the prison 'quarry' was rather shallow. It wasn't as shallow as some six-foot grave that gangsters dug all the time out in the woods, but it wasn't super deep yet either.

Color me disappointed.

"This pit's kinda shallow, huh?" I mused.

"It's a work in progress." Botan explained. She gestured to the pit with her thumb, "That pit wasn't there at all three years ago. But the Warden of Fort Whiskey got the bright idea to mobilize the prisoners to dig straight down. The Block C gals are gonna come by for digging duty after we're done here."

"Huh, is that so?" I hummed. Detective-like curiosity struck me. Some habits don't quite die even after ditching the law after all, so I asked, "Who's the buyer for all this rock?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Botan answered with a shrug.

"C'mon, you've been here three years." I urged, "You must have heard something."

Botan rubbed her chin, pondering.

"I have heard the guards muttering about some buyer in Winningson City. I don't get any specifics." Botan sighed, "But I can tell you this. The guards in this prison are getting paid really, really well. Can't bribe them with cigarettes for any good info. They're enjoying the fruits of our labor here."

"That's what prison labor does in The Nation." I snorted. Then, I glanced at the guards on the watchtowers, "As for the guards? The cleaner the ship, the dirtier the closets."

"Truth." Botan nodded.

Suddenly, the guards that accompanied us approached me and yelled, "Quit yapping and stand still!"

I obliged.

The guards slapped a chained manacle to my ankle and then onto Botan's, and then onto the ankles of the other prisoners of my Block. Then, they started handing out pickaxes.

We're a chain gang. Great.

Was this Uncle Yagoo's way of getting back at me for all that stuff I stole from the merchant marine during The War? Karma can be a bitch, huh?

Speaking of bitches, I couldn't help but feel like some of the other prisoners were stealing glances at me while their ankles were being cuffed. At least three of them were actual dog-girls.

Don't get mad at me. We're all in the same pound here.

Once the guards finished cuffing my blockmates' ankles, we waddled forward to the shallow pit to mine rocks. Pickaxe in hand, I started to strike marble along with Botan and everyone else.

CLANG! CLING! CLANG! CLANK! CLACK!

We went at it from morning to… I don't know. I don't exactly have a watch out here, but we were working for a pretty long time. We got just one single water break to tide us over. By the end of it all, even though the crisp cool winds of early Spring blew through the quarry, it wasn't enough to stop me from sweating and drenching my uniform.

My hands were sore and trembling from striking so much stone and my feet were aching from the ankle chain shuffling. I had to sit down on the ground and surrender my pickaxe to a guard. The rest of my blockmates started following suit one by one.

Everyone Botan kept going on and on and on.

"Just me again, huh?" Botan grinned, still striking rock.

From where I sat, I had a great view of the fierce lioness at work. Even through her sweat-glazed uniform you could see her muscles on her arms and on her back. Someone like her would have intimidated the shit out of my spineless gangsters. She could have even put the Vanguard Syndicate boys in their place… though that Shinri dude might stand a chance.

Either way, Botan kept working like a machine until the guards blew a whistle and ordered her to stop. Another group of prisoners, ones with rough letter C's stitched to their uniforms, arrived.

"Looks like the next shift's here." Botan sighed, slamming her pickaxe into the marble one last time. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her hand and slicked her gray hair back. Then she turned to me with a grin, "How are you holding up, friend?"

I looked back at Botan and answered frankly while panting heavily, "Everything hurts. I want to die."

Botan laughed. She then pointed to the scars on her face and mused, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Her expression then softened as she added, "In a place like this, you're gonna get stronger. One way or another."

Can't argue with that.

The guards started unshackling my ankles and the ankles of my blockmates, transferring the chains over to the Block C girls. Botan then offered her hand to me. I accepted, and she helped me back up to my feet.

…

After the morning shift, Botan and I and all our other Blockmates got a bit more time than what I got for breakfast. I showered off the sweat, changed into a fresh change of black and white stripes and laid down on my bed until Botan called me for lunch in the mess hall.

We had a bit more of a substantial meal. Borderline edible spaghetti and meatballs that was better than the scrambled eggs, but not by much.

I swear, the cooks here wouldn't know al dente if it hit them in the face - and trust me, I want to hit them. Their stuff doesn't hold a candle to the good eats I enjoyed as the Star Detective of City PD. Even the food I got as an affiliate of the Owl Pals was pretty darn good.

Then again, I was dining with the Queenpin of the Owl Pals back then…

Maybe I got too used to the good stuff back then. Don't you think so, Mumei…?

Hah…

Oh Mother Sora, I miss pasta night with Mumei.

While I was lost in thought, Botan pointed her fork at the tomato sauce-coated meatball still there and asked, "You eating that?"

"Yeahp." I answered quickly.

"Heh, t'was worth an ask." Botan chuckled.

I forked the meatball and ate it. The lack of flavor was almost enough to make me cry, but I ate it. I needed the energy.

Right on cue, the guards came to the mess hall again, announcing our next shift: the can factory in Block C.

"Don't worry, friend." Botan reassured me, "We'll get to sit down for this job. We just glue labels onto tin cans."

"Thank Mother Sora…" I groaned in relief.

Once more, the guards lined us up and brought us over to Block C at the opposite end of Fort Whiskey. We were shepherded into what, if I recall correctly, was a storage warehouse for the Winningson Correctional Department. Now, it had a small assembly line with conveyor belts.

This time around, the guards didn't shackle our ankles, but they did lock the doors. Sentries with Garand rifles watched from the catwalk above the factory floor too. Botan and I picked spots along the assembly line and sat together.

"This equipment looks brand new." I assessed, eyeing the assembly lines from my seat.

"That's 'cause it is. I saw it get installed here just last year, actually." Botan revealed as she cracked her neck and her knuckles, "The installers were outsiders, so I got a bit more info out of them. They said that the prison got a lot of money from somewhere, and they invested in a prison factory."

I rubbed my chin. I knew prisons usually ran a deficit and took money from city budgets or from the Feds… but with a marble stone quarry and a factory, they might be turning a profit.

That, or this whole prison is the racket of some powerful gang with deep pockets - and even deeper influence.

Who's the puppetmaster here?

Is it the Vanguard Syndicate?

I looked over my shoulder and saw my other blockmates stealing glances at me yet again.

Am I in danger here?

Shit…

"Something wrong, friend?" Botan asked.

Can this lioness be trusted?

She said wouldn't mind me as long as I don't cross her, but talk is cheap in this business. So, I put on a practiced smile and nodded.

"It's nothing. I'm just still tired from the mining." I told her a white lie.

Then…

KRRRRRRIIIIING!

Bells rang on the factory floor. Some of my blockmates, led by a short, light-purple haired forewoman who wore a purple bandana, started passing out supplies: cardboard boxes of labels, bottles of adhesive and brushes. When the forewoman passed by my station, though, she gave me my supplies and paused.

"Kronii Ouro?" The forewoman asked.

"Who's asking?" I replied sternly.

"Bijou Koseki, your forewoman." She frowned.

As she stood there before me, I got to see just how short this Bijou girl was. Like, she was really short. Short enough to make me start imagining how far she'd fly if I threw her.

"Hey! What'cha looking at?" She fumed, stomping her foot like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Nothing." I shrugged, "And you came to me. What do you want?"

"Right." Bijou nodded, adjusting her purple bandana, "You've been invited to dinner at the Block C penthouse by… my benefactor." She glanced at Botan beside me and added, "Stay here in the factory after this shift. You're going with me."

I blinked.

"Dinner…?" I asked, puzzled.

Before I could ask any questions, the assembly line conveyor belts started to whir. Tin cans started coming down the line and Bijou wandered off. I turned to Botan, hoping for some answers or some advice, but all I got was a shrug.

"It's your life, friend. I'm not gonna tell you what to do." Botan said casually.

That wasn't reassuring.

I heaved a sigh and got to work, slapping Lemon Shark labels onto tin cans till the evening.

…

Despite the whirring of machines and the clanking of tin cans, the silence between me and Botan was deafening. We just sat there and did our work without saying a word to each other. Then, our shift came to an end.

KRRRRRRIIIIING!

The machinery bells rang again as Bijou switched off the assembly line.

"I'm heading back." Botan excused herself.

I gave the lioness a half-hearted nod and stayed at my station until the conveyor belts stopped. Afterwards, Bijou sauntered over to me.

"Let's go." Bijou commanded.

I obliged and followed the short forewoman through Block C. Bijou didn't speak with me. She didn't even turn my way. Whenever I looked at her, she was stone-faced stoic. Like a statue, almost. I just can't figure out what kind.

We climbed up the stairs to the top of Block C. Guards armed with batons tried to stop me, but Bijou gave them a signal. With a wave of Bijou's hands, the guards started patting us down. When they turned out my uniform's pockets, they stopped pestering me and let us through. A handful of the guards then accompanied us down the third floor hall.

"What the hell was that…?" I tried to ask Bijou, "What's with all the guards?"

No answer. As expected.

Whoever Bijou's benefactor was, they were pretty damn powerful.

Just as I was racking my brains to figure out who this influential person could be, I started to smell food.

Good food.

Real.

Good.

Food.

The aroma of herbs and spices, butter and pan-fried meat and seafood reached my nose. Wherever it was Bijou was taking me, it smelled like a top-class steakhouse. A steakhouse inside a Medium Security Prison, though? Was my mind playing tricks on me?

Goodness gracious, my mouth started to water! I licked my lips and imagined the tastes and flavors from the smell alone.

I didn't even notice Bijou looking at me with a disgusted face.

I didn't care.

Before long the guards brought me and Bijou to a door at the end of the hall. One of the guards knocked on the door and called out, "Your guests are here, ma'am."

"Send them in." A familiar, albeit muffled voice urged from inside.

The guards opened the door and let me and Bijou inside. I stepped into the coziest prison cell that I had ever seen in my life. It was a spacious room that was the size of my old office in City PD. It was decorated like a one bedroom apartment too, complete with a sofa, dining table and chairs, a kitchenette and a fully functional, closed off bathroom.

Freshly cooked, pan-fried steaks, steamed lobsters and fancy salads were served on the table, along with bottles of fine red wine from the Aruranian Peninsula. Then, at the heart of it all, was a raven-haired woman with spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose and a sly smirk painted on her lips.

"As I live and breathe, it's you." This woman addressed me, beaming brightly.

"Chief Enma…" I grumbled her name.

"You remember me. That's good." Enma chuckled, "It's been a year, so I thought that you'd have forgotten." She gestured to the table, "Please, have a seat at the table! I made plenty of food for everyone."

Bijou obliged without question. She took a seat at the table and piped up graciously, "Thank you, ma'am."

I, on the other hand, stood there at the threshold. I turned around, but the guards closed the door behind me.

"Please, Kronii." Enma repeated, gesturing to the table again, "Sit at my table. Let's eat. I'm suuuure you're starving after a long day of hard and grueling work." She snorted, "Your Block was on Mine-Craft duty today, right?"

My traitor of a stomach betrayed me and grumbled loudly. The smirk on Enma's lips grew wider.

I took a deep breath and sat down beside Bijou.

Enma waltzed over to the record player by her kitchenette and set down a vinyl of Irys Hopewell's latest jazz record. Then, as Irys' voice filled the room, my old boss sat across from me and poured me a glass of wine.

Under the weight of Enma's stare, I lowered my head.

It was gonna be a long night.

…

Queenpins 2

Steak Ala Pobre

…

To Be Continued