Coco, Bentley, and Penelope stared around at the inside of the lower levels of the skull keep. The dank stone walls arced drearily over them, and the intermittent drip of water echoed through the tunnels. Shackles hung from the stone, clinking and clanking idly from the passage of air. Devices of torture lay against the walls and on tables, showing recent use. Blood dripped from the rusty metal points, mixing with the puddles of water that filled divots in the stone steps from frequent transit, filling the air with the stench of mold, mildew, and pain.
Coco staggered a bit as it assaulted her. "Stronger senses are a double edged sword," she muttered, struggling to hold down her nausea so as to not add the scent of vomit to the mix. The nausea stopped as Penelope slipped an oddly-configured, beak-like mask over her muzzle, filling her nose with a pleasant rose and daffodil scent. "...thanks?" she asked in surprise.
"Plague mask," Penelope explained as she tied her own on after giving one to Bentley. "Picked them up back in Galleth's period. They thought the sweet scents warded off the plague evils. It doesn't work, but makes for great low-tech gas masks if all you want to do is filter out scents."
"And we definitely want to here," Bentley agreed. "Don't suppose you've got the robes, too? Would make great disguises."
"Unfortunately not," Penelope admitted. "I only have so much room in hidden pouches in this bodysuit."
"It'll do," Coco allowed, trying to feel the structure with her magic through her hooves. "Down leads to a dead end, while up opens up to the roofs. Since the roofs were guarded, we should check down first."
"Lead the way," Bentley agreed, following along carefully as he walked his wheelchair down the stairs after Coco, doing his best not to splash too much.
It didn't take long for them to reach the bottom, and the single cell holding a still-living occupant. The fox chained to the wall looked filthy and bedraggled, as well as partially soaked. His military coat was torn and stained with what looked like some form of booze, and he was chained to the wall to the point he couldn't move a muscle.
"I'm going to guess that's Admiral Flametail," Penelope observed carefully. She found herself blushing slightly at the sight of just how muscular he was under the torn coat. "I see why Henriette went for him."
"Penelope!" Bentley whined.
"Hey, I'm over hunting muscle heads," Penelope promised as she laid her hand over Bentley's. "I've got my guy." She then glanced slyly at him. "Besides, I caught you eyeing Henriette when she wasn't trying to dislocate your shoulder through the wheels of your chair so she could use you as a bludgeon to get past Murray."
Bentley looked down, glad the plague mask hid his blush. "Fair enough."
"If yer just gonna talk..." the fox slurred, opening his eyes blearily, "...can...can ye do it elsewhere? 'm tryin' ta sleep..."
"We're here to bust you out!" Coco spoke up quickly.
"Fat chance o' that," Flametail muttered. "These chains and shackles got no keys. 'm welded here. Gonna be stuck here long as the keep stands, just t' keep Henriette in line...stupid LeFuck, if I were free I'd soon show him...but no, he caught me off guard, welded me here, and...*hic*"
Bentley blinked in surprise. "Why would you deliberately keep a prisoner drunk?" he asked Penelope in confusion.
"Because that plus this kind of security is necessary to keep him from busting out?" Penelope offered. "If we could get him off the wall, we could take him back to the hideout and work on breaking the chains."
"Do...do ya think ya could gimme another drink?" Flametail asked hopefully. "The casks...over there..." He gestured to several casks against the opposite wall. "Jus...dun wanna face the world a failure..."
Coco carefully examined the casks...then grinned widely. "I think I can get him off the wall. Penelope, can you get the cell open?"
"Sure," Penelope agreed, easily opening it. "So what are you going to do?"
"How come you're called Flametail?" Coco asked curiously as she stacked the casks against the stone wall of the cell.
"...mongst other things, 'm fireproof," Flametail offered.
"How are you with explosions?" Coco continued as she pushed her magic into the stone, feeling the structure.
"Ask Henriette!" Flametail joked, chuckling drunkenly.
"Fire in the hole," she said softly, dashing to Bentley's wheelchair and tossing one of his bombs in among the casks before ducking behind the stone. Bentley and Penelope ducked with her.
The bomb went off, and the tightly packed alcohol in the casks exploded alongside the one cask of flour Coco'd managed to load with them. The stone wall burst apart, leaving the chained up Flametail blinking as he found he could move as the smoke cleared. "So...about that drink?" he asked hopefully.
"Sorry," Coco offered apologetically. "No drink."
"None?" Flametail asked in upset. "But...it was all there. Why is the rum gone?"
"I had to use it to shape the blast," Coco explained. "Otherwise I might have damaged the structure-"
"But why-" Flametail's body flexed, the chains and manacles shattering off of him with the one inch of movement he had to flex in. "-is the rum-" His eyes blazed as three extra tails unfurled from underneath his torn coat. "-gone?!" he shouted, slamming his clenched fist into the wall. White light raced through the wall, and the entire thing exploded outward with the force of an earthquake.
Coco, Bentley, and Penelope could only stare. Eventually, it was Penelope who found her voice. "You know...I'd wondered how the more 'magical' seeming of the Cooper Techniques worked..."
"So how are we going to get him back to the hideout and Henriette with all the attention that's going to draw?" Bentley demanded. "We still need to try and find her hook!"
"Oh, you mean this?" Flametail asked, reaching into one of the extra tails that had sprouted and pulling out the hook in question. "LeFwee was down here bragging and showing it off to 'torment' me, and he never noticed my extra tail swiping it out of his pocket. Picked up a few useful skills from Henriette in addition to information."
"You...don't seem as drunk as a minute ago," Coco observed carefully.
He gestured to the hole he'd made. "The rum in my blood had to go somewhere."