Fillydelphia Juvenile Detention Center - Early March in the Afternoon
There were many kinds of people who found themselves in juvie, whether it be as a visitor or a prisoner. Concerned parents, thieves, schoolyard friends, murderers, lawyers for the murderers, the list goes on. The young folks who could be seen behind the bars of their cells had seen more than their fair share of people come through juvie's doors, so it made sense that many of them felt that they had seen it all, so to speak. That was, until a woman wearing a smooth blue suit, light-blue undershirt, dark-blue skirt, magenta tights, and dark-grey dress shoes came walking into the building with purpose in every step. She had red lipstick, a mole just above the right side of the upper lip, glasses with thin rims, eyes with light-pink irises, three white pearls hanging from her earlobes, and very well kept hair that was stripped in shades of pink and dark-red. Her face bore an expression that revealed a reserved composure wrought from years of practice with maintaining an appearance of dignity. It wasn't every day that the prisoners watching from their cells on each side of the hallway could catch a glimpse of someone who looked even half as prim, proper, and stuck up as she was. Not even the lawyers could hold a candle by comparison! The gossip among the prisoners was quick to begin and even quicker to spread like wildfire, but she did not care about such trivial matters as she walked down the hallway. Abacus Cinch was in the mood for taking care of business, and she had important business to attend to in this prison for teenagers.
With some well-practiced assistance from the guards, she made her way to the cell block devoted specifically to holding those prisoners who had the dubious honor of being marked for 'secure confinement'. It was a status given to the especially wild juveniles who, for various reasons, were not trusted to be around the standard assortment of prisoners without causing a whole world of problems. Make no mistake, the folks running the detention center were putting in the effort to properly rehabilitate those with the 'secure confinement' label, as they were wont to do with all of the prisoners under their watch. The Fillydelphia Juvenile Detention Center, after all, had a well-earned reputation for turning delinquents into respectable members of society. It was, however, a seriously trying task to rehabilitate teenagers who were prone to multiple levels and variations of violence, psychotic episodes, and the like. Knowing this fact all too well from working here for a good few years, one of the guards escorting Cinch through the cell block via her left side spoke to her with a hint of concern in the deep rough voice of a veteran of both work and life;
"We know who you're going to visit, ma'am, and frankly; I'm wondering if you know why she's in here."
Cinch responded in an expertly performed professional manner that hid her annoyance over being asked a question that was, in her mind, ridiculous, her voice carrying an air of intensity and stuffiness pulled from better days gone by;
"I am well aware of her... "
Her fists clinched slightly for a brief second as less-than-stellar memories popped up in her head for a moment. Said fists then slowly opened back up as she went on;
"Checkered reputation. It is of no concern to me."
The guard to her right, a younger man with less experience under his belt, told her with thinly veiled nervousness in his voice and movements, the slight tremble in his arms being a dead giveaway to all who could see him;
"Well, it should be! No offense, ma'am, but... there is a reason why she's called 'The Wrecker'."
Up until now, the prisoners that they walked passed as they ventured through the block were talking to each other from their cells or otherwise minding their own business. Albeit for the most part, since some of them were glaring at the trio out of curiosity. Once that name was mentioned out loud by the younger guard, however, every prisoner within earshot had shut their mouths and turned away from them within moments. Some of them had gone so far as to back themselves clear away from the bars of their cells in a panicked rush. Clearly, whoever this 'Wrecker' was, was not a lady to be trifled with, a fact that Cinch could see just from watching their reactions as she noted;
"As I said, young man, I am aware of her reputation."
She shrugged a little before adding;
"But, I suppose it would not hurt to hear of it from a law enforcer's perspective."
The older guard gave off a short grunt before recounting with an exasperated sigh as they made a right-hand turn to travel into a more cramped hallway that, unlike the main part of the block they had just exited, had plain white walls instead of prison cells on either side;
"Well, ma'am, she's got a track record of violence one has to see to believe! I'm talking about a whole list of counts of physical assault a mile long. Actually, make that two miles."
Reaching the end of the hallway, they approached a steel security door with a sign hanging above it that depicted the words "Juveniles with Records of Violence" written in bold black font. The older guard walked over to a metal key card-based security lock attached to the wall to the left of the door and pulled out his key card. With a quick downward swipe of his card into the device's slot, he unlocked the door, which caused it to slowly open up automatically. The trio then walked through as the guard placed his key card back into his pants pocket. Beyond the door was an equally cramped hallway, but this one was lined with cells on both sides. As Cinch walked with the guards, she looked around to find that, instead of bars, the cells were locked tight behind steel windowless doors that had security locks that only trusted personnel were allowed to access. It was a long hallway, long enough to allow for the younger guard to continue the conversation with a hint of fear over the subject in his voice, though he was no longer trembling;
"She used to be a gang enforcer for hire and let me tell you, nearly everyone she had ever fought before the cops could book her were beaten to a terrible pulp. I mean, a lot of those punks can't even fight again because of her."
"Some of those punks can't even walk again because of her," noted the gruff guard with his eyes closed as he reflected on the aforementioned long list of crimes he had briefly reexamined earlier in the day when he was warned to expect Cinch's arrival and who she was visiting.
"I swear, if I see another criminal record that long, it'll be too soon...", he thought to himself out of annoyance as he continued his escort.
Cinch decided this was the time to make a counterpoint as she adjusted her glasses;
"From what I could gather, this 'Wrecker' has not taken a single life up until she was sent here."
The younger guard was quick to reply;
"That's one of the strange things about her: She racked up numerous counts of physical assault, the kinds one could get from fighting people with and without weapons, but not one count of murder of any variation or degree."
Cinch allowed a tiny smirk to appear on her face for a moment before replacing it with her usual reserved expression as she thought to herself with hidden relief;
"Well, that is at least one key detail confirmed."
She then had a thought that prompted her to ask the guards;
"I'd imagine she's been quite the trouble-maker here, given her past crimes, am I correct?"
The older guard let out a gruff 'ha!' before explaining with no small amount of relief on his face;
"That's the thing about her that's both strange and, frankly, a breath of fresh air for us guards: she has been on her best behavior for the entire time she's been here!"
Cinch raised her right eyebrow out of controlled surprise. She knew that the detention center had a policy of keeping how prisoners behaved while under its care inaccessible to news outlets (she even had to sign a non-disclosure agreement before she could be allowed to visit the center). So, when she did her research on The Wrecker, she had assumed, based on her public criminal record, that she had at least gotten into a few fights, or even started a prison riot for good measure. She did NOT expect someone with such an extensive history of violence to be so much as somewhat well-behaved. She could not help but express a short laugh before making an honest statement while returning her face to its previous reserved expression;
"This young lady has already surprised me and that, gentlemen, is not easy to do."
It was the gruff guard's turn to laugh, his rough voice echoing in the hall as he did so before adding in a calmer fashion;
"Yeah, she surprised us all, frankly. She's got seven days left in her three-year sentence and if she keeps this up, she'll leave with a clean slate on her record. She's already been rewarded for her behavior, in accordance with our rules."
Cinch's right eyebrow rose back up as she responded out of curiosity;
"Oh? What rewards did she earn for herself?"
The younger guard explained as they reached the halfway point of the hallway;
"Well, for her first year of consistently good behavior, she got to choose additions to her detention center uniform that us guards had to approve. What she had picked was... odd, to say the least. Harmless, though."
"Odd in what ways?", asked Cinch, her raised eyebrow kept firmly in place as the older guard answered with a slight smirk;
"You'll see soon enough, ma'am."
The trio became silent as they eventually reached the end of the hallway. Waiting for them there was yet another steel door; a complete match of the ones they had just passed by, lack of windows and all. The older guard walked over to door, pulled his standard issue nightstick out from the left side of his pants belt, and gave it three strong whacks, the banging of wood colliding with steel echoing loudly around them, causing Cinch to scrunch up her face a little out of annoyance over the noise. After that, the younger guard pulled out his key card, swiped it in slot on the security lock to the right of the door, and waited. It took five seconds for the sound of locks unlocking from within the door to ring out before them, which prompted the older guard to push the door open. It looked to be as thick as it was heavy, so the old vet had to put in a good amount of elbow grease to get the door open. Even then, however, he could only do so at a slow but steady pace, which added a dramatic feel to the reveal that was playing out before Cinch, who made it a point to make a slight adjustment to her glasses again to appear as professional as possible. When the door was fully opened, the sight that Cinch was able to behold made her eyes widen for a moment as she held her chin with her right hand while inspecting what, or rather, who she was seeing. The younger guard walked into the cell and off to the right side before standing at attention while keeping a sharp eye on the prisoner inside. As for the older guard, after his work was done, he turned around to face Cinch and calmly declared;
"Say hello to Juvenile #448: The Wrecker."
During her years as principal of Crystal Prep, Cinch had encountered a few students who had served time in juvenile detention centers like this one. She had always made it a point to obtain their criminal records as well as photos of what they had looked like during their incarceration, to make sure that she was prepared for any incidents that would occur as a result of their enrollment into the school. So, she knew what a typical prison outfit for young folks looked like. When one of the guards hinted at the oddity of The Wrecker's choice of additions to her own outfit, Cinch figured she had picked out items that were not expected from prisoners, like a baseball cap, a bandana, a leather jacket, or something else of that nature: clothing that breaks the norm but nothing wildly out of place in a cell.
What The Wrecker was actually wearing, however, was outright outlandish!
Of course, she wore the standard orange prison uniform with long sleeves that completely covered her arms, matching pants, white socks, and black shoes in adherence to the detention center's rules. The additions to her outfit, in stark contrast, consisted of a long slim black cowboy hat ripped right out of those old western films that Cinch's grandfather used to watch regularly, dark grey bandages that wrapped around her head and neck while neatly leaving the nostrils of her nose untouched, different sets of matching bandages that covered the ears without blocking her hearing, big round black goggles with thick red visors that kept her eyes completely hidden, and a pair of fingered gloves that matched the bandages. Positioned on the front of her throat via a black strap was, from what Cinch could recognize, was a dark grey voice box; clear evidence of this woman's violent past. There was no way for Cinch to tell who this lady was just by looking at her, which was fine with her as she continued to inspect the prisoner and her room. The Wrecker was holding an old music player in her right hand, its attached earphones sitting on her lap with their cord dangling from her right leg slightly as she sat on the one chair in the cell that was present, her hands resting on her lap. Behind her was the standard set of amenities for juveniles in the center: a single bed that could barely fit one person with a somewhat comfortable mattress, a toilet for whenever nature called complete with an already equipped toilet paper holder (with carefully positioned curtains around them both for the sake of decency), a decent shower and tub combo built into the wall to the left (with its own set of curtains), a medium-sized bookshelf containing a decent assortment of reading material, a small closet built into the wall to the right of the toilet that housed multiple sets of her regular prison outfit, a small ceiling lamp with a single working light-bulb, and a small turned off television that was hung on the upper-right corner of the room. Other than those things, the room was quite spacious and bare with gray walls that matched the ceiling and floor.
As much as she wanted to scoff at the prisoner's bizarre choice of attire, and complain about the drab nature of her living accommodations, Cinch swallowed that temptation as she walked up to her while giving her a glare that was equal parts professional and intense, the kind that she had always given to any student in Crystal Prep during her tenure as Principal. Delivering judgement was, after all, not her objective at this juncture. The Wrecker did not flinch at this sight as the older woman stopped to stand before her with just a few feet between them. They stared each other down for almost a minute, the prisoner's goggles aimed squarely at Cinch's eyes with a silent focus that matched the older woman's intensity. With a dignified cough, Cinch broke the ice in her usual polite, though slightly snooty, manner;
"Good day to you, Ms. Wrecker. I am Abacus Cinch, and I come bearing a gift. I assure you that the guards have already approved it."
Reaching into her right pants pocket as The Wrecker cocked her head slightly to her right side out of silent curiosity, Cinch pulled out a white sealed envelope before handing it over to her. It was completely bare on the front; no name, no address, or even a postage stamp could be seen on it. After thinking about the item being offered to her for a moment or two, The Wrecker placed her music player on her lap and slowly took the envelope with her gloved right hand, her gaze refusing to move away from Cinch's eyes as she did this. The former principal then added to help satiate her curiosity somewhat;
"Think of it as... something to look forward to for when you return to the outside world."
The bandaged prisoner cocked her head slightly to the other side in response before Cinch decided to nod her head with the dignity of a professional while declaring;
"Well then, I must be on my way, as I have business to attend to elsewhere."
Briskly turning around on her right heel, she walked over to the opened doorway before stopping at about a quarter of the way. She turned her head to her right far enough to give The Wrecker one last glare with her left eye, this time with the tiniest of smug smirks added for good measure, before telling her;
"May we both get what we deserve one day."
With that, she turned her head to face forward and walked out of the cell, the guards leaving with her before closing the security door behind, the resulting noise from act of doing so and the door's locking mechanism ringing in the prisoner's ears as she looked down at the gift in her right hand.
Without another moment's pause, she used both hands to unseal the envelope before pulling out the item inside. It was a single photo that depicted a young woman with amber yellow skin and red hair with prominent yellow streaks. She was standing at the edge of a rooftop with her back facing the evening sky, her eyes closed and her arms stretched out from her sides while she expressed a gentle smile, as if she were welcoming the light from the setting sun into her very being. Her entire demeanor revealed a contentment and hope in her heart. Other than the sun and the sky, what had made the entire image pop were the flaming wings of a phoenix burning proudly from behind her through the use of expertly crafted special effects. Written at the bottom of this photo in a large artistic font with colors that matched her hair was a name;
Sunset Shimmer.
An old, fermented anger grew within the pit of her stomach as The Wrecker flipped the photo over. On its back was a single legible message that was written in a small neat black font that one would expect to see on a computer screen;
Now you know her name.
That old anger rumbled inside her as it grew in strength, trying desperately to erupt outwards like a terrible inferno. Her breath became short and quick in its repetition as she flipped the photo back over to glare at the girl it depicted. The hand that held it tensed up, ready to crush that photo with furious prejudice. But, she took a different approach; she steadied her breath, released the tension in her hand, and carefully placed the photo on her lap. As the anger inside weakened, she reclaimed her music player and, with a few button presses, started up a song that fit the mood perfectly, its choir-like intro easing her emotions further as she gently bobbed her body from side to side in its rhythm. When the song transitioned to a fearsome guitar riff that hinted at an unhappy future, she became lost to the music entirely.