I, Kronii Ouro, have been shamed.
After the medics stitched me up in the paddy wagon, took out the bullets from my leg and made sure that I wasn't going to kick the bucket in court, Winningson PD brought me to stand trial in the dead of night - even though I could barely stand. I got this sham of a 'public defender' in my corner, but they didn't say a damn word. Though, 'tis probaby hard to defend someone caught red handed.
So, I got the full eight year sentence for robbery and armed assault - and a fifty dollar parking ticket for parking in a restricted back alley! Oh Mother Sora, the justice system is DEAD!
They threw me back into the paddy wagon and had me shipped out to Fort Whiskey, a Medium Security Prison for women - the largest 'Federal Rock' in the East Coast of the Nation, straddling the state borders of Winningson State and neighboring Wellaware.
Medium Security.
Maximum shithole.
Far, far away from Winningson City.
I stayed awake the whole trip. So, when we got to Fort Whiskey, the sun was already rising. The Winningson PD uniforms and the uniforms from the Rock dragged me out of the paddy wagon and made me limp up the prison's stairs and towards its doors. On the way up, I took my last few breaths and sights of freedom. I looked over my shoulder and saw rows upon rows of red berry bushes across from the Interstate highway.
Those were the fields of the one and only racket that my Ouro Crime Family had in Winningson.
Some family that was, huh?
Seeing that place made me think…
I thought about the slimy bastards of the Vanguard Syndicate, the goons of my gang who sold me out to them and that Ankimo-award winning pink-haired floozy posing as a bank manager… whatever her name was.
Hrgh…! Just thinking of them made my blood boil!
But more than that, the question that really stewed in my mind was…
What happened to Mumei?
Did she make it out alive?
Did she betray me too?
…
Was it my fault?
The impatient uniforms jabbed me with the butt of a Garand rifle before I could find the answer. So, I limped on through the doors of Fort Whiskey and resigned myself to my fate.
…
I was marched into a small room and made me hold up a black placard with my name and my inmate number filled in with chalk. The handwriting wasn't even particularly nice.
Tsk.
All of a sudden, before I could ask for a new placard, the camera flashed.
CHAK!
"GWAK!" I yelped.
What the hell…!? I wasn't ready!
"H-hey, do that shot again." I demanded.
"Turn to the side, ma'am." The cameraman spoke uncaringly.
"But I…" I tried to bargain.
"Turn to the side." The uniform with the Garand rifle answered me this time with a scowl.
Damn… Her scowl frightened me more than her rifle, to be honest. So, I complied. I turned to the side, held up my shitty placard and let them take my mugshot.
CHAK!
The cameraman took the placard from me and the scary, Garand-wielding uniform brought me away to the inmate processing. She and the prison custodian made me surrender everything I had and stripped me down to my underwear. They took my fancy suit jacket, my bloodied trousers and my jewelry. I watched them inspect every nook and cranny of my clothes until they found something in my jacket pocket.
A gold ruby ring!
The custodian eyed the ruby ring keenly. She even brought out a pocket jeweler's lens and started appraising it like a pawnshop clerk, noting, "This isn't yours, is it?"
"I-it's mine." I insisted halfheartedly.
I was going to give that ring to Mumei, but now… I'm not entirely sure.
"Your name's not Kaela Kovalskia, thief." The custodian answered flatly, "We're returning this to the bank."
Tsk. I'm not exactly in a position to bargain with her, so I just held my tongue. The custodian took away the rest of my things and gave me my prison uniform in return: unflattering black and white stripes.
Eugh…
Suddenly, I'm glad they let me take my mugshot in my suit. At least the photos of me they'll publish in tomorrow's newspapers will have some fashion in it. I harped on and on about wanting to get back on the newspapers, but this wasn't what I had in mind.
I'll take any win I can get, no matter how small.
…
Once I slipped into those… eugh… unfashionable rags, the Warden of Fort Whiskey and her uniforms brought me into the prison grounds. She laid down the routine for me, but I already knew everything that she was gonna say. Three meals a day, lights out at nine, exercise yard hours, 'correctional duties' and all that jazz.
As she went over the rules, though, the Warden and her guards brought me through the exercise yard just as the inmates were pouring in.
Wherever we passed, the inmates would stop whatever they were doing and stare. I mean, I can't blame them. I'm probably the prettiest gal these ladies have seen and I wholeheartedly respect their opinion there… but there was more to it than that. I couldn't help but feel like I was being paraded like a slab of fresh meat in a den of wolves.
They were whispering amongst themselves. When we crossed through the exercise yard, one of the prisoners finally said the quiet part out loud.
"HEY! IT'S THE STAR DETECTIVE FROM THE CITY!" The prisoner roared, "KRONII OURO!"
That declaration broke the dam. The whispers grew louder. People started recognizing me.
They started to laugh and jeer.
"Did you smile for the camera, girl? The Rattler's gonna have a field day with you!"
"All that shit you did in The City's finally caught up with you, huh, miss superstar?"
"Where's your suit, Ouro? Where's your fancy car? Where's that owl perched on your shoulder?"
That was the first time I was recognized in about a year of drought and obscurity… and I fucking hated it. Never thought I'd say that in my life.
The inmates got bolder. They followed me through the yards, flanking the armed uniforms like vultures. Then, a bunch of bald inmates muscled their way in through the crowd and yelled, "Hey bitch! Nice hair. I bet it'd look real good on the barbershop floor!"
"Yeah!" Another baldie agreed, "Make the Kronii BALDERONI!"
They got closer and closer, but the uniforms didn't budge. The chants grew louder.
"BALDERONI!"
"BALDERONI!"
"BALDERONI!"
Suddenly, one of the baldies grabbed my hair from behind.
That was the last straw!
I slapped the baldie's hand away and shouted in her face, "Touch a hair on my head again and you're gonna REGRET it!"
It was only then that the Warden made her uniforms do their jobs properly, cordoning me off from the rest of the prisoners. Uniforms posted on the guard towers started cocking their Thompson submachine guns too.
That was their last warning to disperse - and they heeded it.
Thanks to that, the rest of my walk of shame to my cell was uneventful.
…
The Warden brought me to one of the 'newer' prison blocks, and by 'newer' I mean the one that wasn't falling apart as quickly as the rest. Walking through here, I remember accompanying Chief Enma back in '49 when they inaugurated this place, but it's definitely seen better days.
They brought me to the second floor of the block, threw me into a standard cell with a view of the exercise yard and shut the bars behind me.
SLAM!
I held onto the bars, watching the Warden and her uniforms march on out of the prison block. It was only then that all of this - my new reality - sank in.
It hit like a freight train.
I took a deep breath and heaved a sigh.
All of a sudden, something shifted inside the cell and swished through the air. Then, a voice called out to me from the top bunk of the bed.
"This your first time in the slammer, kid?" The voice asked with a thick accent.
I turned around and faced the strange figure. Lying sideways on the top bunk was a tall, long ash-gray haired woman who, despite bearing scars on her face, her shoulders and her hands, was drop-dead gorgeous. Feline ears with piercings twitched over her beautifully messy locks of hair and a lion's tail swished behind her playfully. Her ash-gray eyes turned to me and she smiled, waiting for my answer.
"No." I answered, standing as tall as I could without keeling over, "So, don't even think about trying anything funny."
The lioness suddenly grinned.
"I saw you in the yard earlier - or rather I heard you." The lioness spoke, pointing to the barred window beside her. She sat upright on the bed and cast her shadow down onto me, all the while playing with a lock of her ash-gray hair, "I like people with backbone. You're not a boring person, so you're good in my books. But if you cross me …" She then traced a line over her throat with her black-painted nails, "You won't know what hit you."
Firm but fair. I can respect that.
I looked her in the eyes and introduced myself, "Kronii Ouro."
"Botan Shishiro." She answered, grinning.
…
Queenpins 2: The Big Brass Ballad of Kronii Ouro
Lion's Den
…
Epilogue
In a different prison block, at the opposite end of Fort Whiskey, big brass band music played on a record player. Bacon and eggs sizzled on a pan while a coffee pot whistled, filling the room with the aroma of rich, imported Pekolander coffee. A slim, bespectacled lady with long, black hair and red streaks, poured herself a cup of coffee and tended to the eggs and bacon. She then switched off the stove and plated her breakfast, flourishing it on fine china.
As she was doing so, there was a knock on a heavy metal door.
"Newspaper and delivery." A voice called from the other side.
"Coming." The black-haired lady answered. She wiped her hands on her black-and-white prison uniform and opened the door.
The prison Warden handed the lady inmate the morning newspaper. Then, one of her prison guards set down a crate by the door.
"Lobster, prime rib steaks and red wine." The Warden said, pointing to the box, "Anything else you need, ma'am?"
"I should be fine. Thanks Warden." The lady inmate shook her head.
But then, she adjusted her glasses and thumbed through the morning newspaper. She glanced at the headline that read, ' Bank Robbery Fiasco: Kronii Ouro Arrested '
She grinned with wicked joy.
So, just as the Warden was about to close the door, the lady held back the door and stuck her head out the threshold.
"Apologies, dear Warden, but there is something else that I'd like after all." She hummed cheerfully, "You see, there's this place in The City up North that makes really good cakes. It's called the Mother Nature Cafe, Central District. If it's not too much of a hassle, I'd like one of their cakes delivered here posthaste." She tapped on Kronii's name in the newspaper and added, "It's a special occasion, you see."
"As you wish, Chief… I mean… Miss Enma." The Warden tipped her hat politely. Then, she closed the door behind her.
Enma herself, meanwhile, took the newspaper and her crate of food and drinks into her spacious cell. She sat down at a handsome, mahogany dining table. As the other prisoners of Fort Whiskey mulled around in the aging prison facilities, Enma drowned out their din with the big band music. She lived in her own world, enjoying her bacon and eggs and sipped on her Pekolander coffee while Irys Hopewell serenaded her with crooner classics and jazz standards.
The tastiest part of her meal, however, were the words printed on the newspaper that she read over and over again.
"Looks like I can't get rid of you Kronii." Enma grinned, "And you can't get rid of me."
Then, Enma stabbed her egg yolk with a fork, letting it bleed out onto her plate.
To Be Continued