The island loomed over them, gray stone and gray metal reaching up for the gunmetal gray sky that overlooked the gray waters. The imposing structure hung over the approaching launch like a guillotine blade, waves crashing against the steep stone slopes that looked like they would be standing until the end of days. The beam of light emanating from the lighthouse penetrated through the rainy sky like a sword slicing through the atmosphere.
“Anypony else feel kinda small right now?” Daring said, staring up at the huge shape of Clovenworth Penitentiary as their launch trundled through the churning water of Manehattan Bay. She shivered slightly in the rain that continued to fall from the sky up above, dripping off the brim of her pith helmet. Lightning flickered through the clouds overhead, accompanied by a distant rumble of thunder.
Phillip and Strider stood next to her on the deck of the boat, the powerful lights mounted over the pilothouse penetrating the evening air and illuminating a concrete pier extending out into the water. A small cabin stood at the end of the dock, a tiny shelter against the forces of nature. Three figures stood waiting for their launch on the dock: a reddish-brown female yak, her copper mane tied back in a tight knot and wearing the dark gray uniform of a correctional officer covered by a rain jacket; a light blue unicorn stallion with reddish hair in a primly pressed suit, his cutie mark a folder with an open eye stamped upon it, clutching a clipboard to his chest with one foreleg and holding an umbrella over his head with his magic; and an earth pony mare with a coat the color of dark chocolate, ink-black hair, hard blue eyes, and shoulders like a linebacker, her cutie mark a brick wall, stoically unmoved by the weather. All three had walkie-talkies secured to their belts with microphones clipped up to their shoulders.
As the launch approached, spotlights snapped on from the two nearest guard towers, causing the ponies on the boat to wince at the sudden assault of harsh white light. The boat chugged to the dock, the engine slowly groaning to a halt.
“Here we are,” the hippogriff police officer piloting the boat declared, exiting the boat and tossing a couple of lines to the yak officer. The yak tied off the boat and beckoned them to jump onto the pier.
The trio hopped onto the stone as the stocky mare approached them. “Welcome to Clovenworth Island, Agent, detectives,” she announced in a voice as thick as the walls of her prison. “I’m Warden Brick Wall. This is my secretary, Counterintelligence.”
“Welcome,” Counterintelligence nodded.
“G’day, Warden,” Phillip said, shaking her hoof. “Were you related to Stone Wall?”
“He was my cousin,” the warden answered with a quiet sigh.
“My condolences,” Phillip bowed his head.
“He was a good stallion,” Daring put in.
“You got the fucker. That’s all I could ask for,” Brick said, shrugging and letting out a quiet cough. “I got your message and spread the word among the officers,” she said as the yak officer grabbed a phone from a wall fixture and announced that the visitors had arrived. “We appreciate the warning, but I don’t know what you expect to find here.”
“We have a few questions for a couple of the inmates,” Strider replied as they followed the warden and her secretary up a long set of snow and slush-coated stairs set into the cliffs, the spotlights from the guard towers illuminating their every step. Set over the stairs at periodic intervals were metal arches: Netitus Security Gates, designed to unravel any glamours or similar spells or set off an alarm if one attempted to walk through carrying any contraband. “And we also want to ask you about the staff.”
Brick Wall glared at him. “Are you insinuating that some of my officers are planning a breakout?” she growled.
“We just want to cover every angle,” Strider said placatingly.
Brick Wall frowned at him for several seconds of silence but nodded. “I see,” she said, watching as Daring passed through the first gate, which turned red and buzzed loudly.
“She’s not packing, dinky-di,” Phillip assured the warden as he followed his wife through, the gate buzzing for him as well.
“As long as we’re taking the tour, we might as well get some info about the prison,” Daring proposed, looking up at the massive towers staring down at them. Behind the glare of the spotlights, she could see the silhouettes of guards with rifles looking down upon them.
“Fair enough,” Brick Wall nodded. “Counterintelligence?”
“Clovenworth Penitentiary was built in 1844 as a military fortress, during the Siren Wars,” Counterintelligence rattled off from memory. “It was converted into a maximum-security prison in 1933 for inmates with severe disciplinary problems, those who have successfully or repeatedly attempted to escape from less-secure institutions, and those who had committed crimes of an extremely heinous nature. Every measure was taken in making the facility as difficult to escape from as possible.”
Daring abruptly winced as the all-too-familiar cold of an anti-flight ward washed over her like an ice bath. The comforting buzz of her flight magic was smothered beneath the preventative magic, and for a terrifying second, a part of her brain screamed at her that her wings had been suddenly severed and she instinctively checked to make sure that her feathered appendages were still attached.
“Never gonna get used to that,” Strider grimaced, glancing at his own wings.
“Yes, that’s one of the first defenses that the island has,” Counterintelligence continued. “Every inch of the walls of this prison carries powerful defensive wards: anti-flight, anti-teleportation, anti-scrying, strengthening, and so on. This stairway is the only path onto or off the island; the rest of the island’s perimeter is all sheer cliff walls, and without flight, climbing them would be a near-impossible task.”
“Staff and inmates?” Phillip asked as they neared the top of the stairs.
“Total staff number about 120, with 85 total correctional officers,” Counterintelligence rattled off. “We never have less than 50 on the island at any one time. Clovenworth has a maximum capacity of 240; the current capacity is 197. And here we are.”
They reached the top of the stairway and approached a thick set of metal gates placed in the thick concrete walls that circumnavigated the prison; as Counterintelligence stated, wards were carved into the stone, the arcane symbols faintly glowing with power that passed between them like water through a channel. The gates were protected by a second guardhouse, where a trio of officers approached them and gave each of the three guests a thorough search, checking every pocket and running through their clothes, coats, manes, wings, and tails.
“No exceptions for the warden’s guests?” Daring asked, frowning as one of the officers thoroughly searched her pith helmet.
“We can’t allow ourselves to become complacent, ever,” Brick Wall replied, nodding in approval at her guards’ work.
“Your pistols and other weapons will need to stay here,” a light gray hippogriff officer reported. “We’ll lock them up in the guardhouse for you.”
Phil, Daring, and Strider removed their holsters and hoofed them over, followed by Phillip's waddy and Daring's stockwhip. The hippogriff looked at the Aborigineighal weapons for a moment, then raised an eyebrow at them.
“We won them in a contest and we feel obligated to use them,” Daring replied.
The hippogriff shrugged, entered the guardhouse, and returned with a clipboard carrying three pieces of paper and a pen. “Each of you needs to sign one of these, please,” he said, handing the clipboard to Phillip.
“What’s this?” Phil asked, looking over the document.
“A waiver,” Warden Brick Wall explained. “That you understand that in the event you are taken hostage, we will not negotiate for your release.”
“Cheery,” Daring commented, signing the waiver and passing it to Strider. He and Daring both signed the waiver and handed the clipboard back to the guard.
The officer reentered the guardhouse and there was a buzzing noise. The gate began to roll to one side with a groaning and clattering of gears, allowing them entry.
“Shall we?” Brick Wall asked, gesturing for them to enter first.
Daring Do looked up at the massive towers overhead, their spotlights still shining their beams down upon them. The gate in front of her looked more like an open maw ready to swallow her whole; the high brick walls seemed to threaten to trap her here forever. Her heartbeat sped up, thumping against the inside of her skull; her lungs instinctively started to gulp down cold evening air like she was drowning.
“Daring?” Phillip asked, taking her right hoof and squeezing.
Daring swallowed a mouthful of bile and took a slow, deep breath, ordering her heartbeat to slow down. “I’m okay,” she smiled feebly up at him, gripping his hoof back. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Right,” Phillip nodded, leading his wife and partner through the gate into Clovenworth Penitentiary.
The first thing that they saw on the other side of the fence was a battered metal sign titled Inmate Rules, a long list of regulations and restrictions for the inmates of Clovenworth. The island looked kind of like a crude castle keep, penned in by brick walls topped by barbed wire and spikes, with guard towers dotted irregularly along the circumference. Sections of the island were separated by chain-link fences that intersected the gray stone buildings that dotted the prison, and the ground was covered in great swaths of snow, with salted sidewalks cutting through the banks.
The main buildings, all of them crowned with blankets of white, were a trio of circular three-story buildings, one smaller than the other two. Each had a gated yard attached to them, each with a guard tower positioned to watch over them. Next to the entrance was a long, flat building with windows and a set of radio antennae connected to it. Nearby was a smaller white building with a red cross painted over the door. On the opposite side of the prison were two long, parallel buildings. A water tower stood next to another, smaller stone building, and finally, a two-story gable-roofed building stood off on its own not far from the entrance.
“Those three large buildings are the cell blocks,” Counterintelligence explained. “We have separate ones for males and females, and the small one is death row, which has the only execution chamber in Equestria."
"Out of curiosity, how many do you have in there?" Strider asked.
"Nine at the moment, all of them serial killers and domestic terrorists," Counterintelligence replied. "You two would probably recognize one of them," he added meaningfully to Phil and Daring. "Next to you are the barracks, where guards stay while off-shift during their tours and which also houses the main security center. Then we have the infirmary, shops where inmates work, backup generators, and the warden’s home and offices.”
“We’ll start in my offices,” Brick Wall said, leading them towards the gable-roofed house. “Mind the fences; they’re electrified.”
“I noticed,” Phillip replied, glancing at the fence. Even if he hadn’t been able to feel the thick sensation of static that hung in the air around the metal, the small red warning signs with a picture of a lightning bolt placed at regular intervals would’ve been enough of a clue.
Brick Wall paused at a gate set into a section of the fence and glanced up at a surveillance crystal mounted on a nearby tower. A loud buzzer sounded and she pushed the gate open, allowing her guests entry up a concrete path that was kept scrupulously clear of snow.
The warden’s office would’ve been modest if it had been placed in a normal suburban neighborhood, with its compact size, a tiny attached flower garden that was currently barren from the cold, and simple dark-blue paint that had faded from years of exposure. Compared to the utilitarian gray of the prison, it looked like a palace dropped in the middle of the desert.
“Here we are,” Brick Wall said, pulling a set of keys from a keyring on her belt and inserting one into the wooden door. The door squeaked open to reveal a simple lobby, with a set of stairs leading to the second floor, a small receptionist’s office to one side occupied by a white-maned unicorn mare with a bubblegum coat, and a sitting room to the other.
“Evening, Sticky Note,” Counterintelligence greeted the mare, shaking off his umbrella as they entered.
The mare’s jaw dropped when she saw the stallion in the gray trilby and the mare in the pith helmet enter. “D-d-detectives!” she stammered out, rushing to a coffee machine in the corner. “Welcome to Clovenworth! Can I offer--?”
“No thanks,” Daring waved her off.
“My offices are upstairs,” Brick Wall said, taking off her jacket and hanging it up on a rack next to three sets of saddlebags, then kicking off her horseshoes and placing them into a boot tray. “Jackets and shoes off, please. I don’t want to give the cleaning staff reason to stay in my home longer than they have to.”
The other ponies all removed their horseshoes and outer jackets. Counterintelligence took his leave and entered the receptionist’s office, gathering some documents. Sticky Note pretended to shuffle through some mail while watching the detectives proceed upstairs with wide brown eyes.
Brick Wall led them to the second floor, down a hallway lined with portraits of the previous wardens, and into a large oak-paneled office. Set at the end of the room was a large but simple desk, the stationery atop it neatly organized. Filing cabinets were set behind the desk like soldiers at attention. On the wall opposite was an enlarged architectural drawing of the original layout of the penitentiary.
“Which inmates did you want to speak to?” the warden asked, unlocking one of the filing cabinets.
“Scarlet Letter,” Daring said, spitting out the name like it tasted of acid.
“Hmmm,” Brick Wall grunted, pulling out one drawer and flipping through it. “She’s been with us for about half a year now. No real disciplinary problems, but we’ve been keeping a close eye on her. We don’t get many inmates who deliberately petition to be moved here.”
She pulled out a manila folder and placed it on the table, pushing it over to her guests. Strider used a wing to open the folder and spread the documents therein over the table. Paperclipped to the front of the papers was a set of mugshots, depicting a short, light pink unicorn mare, her long midnight black mane accented with red. Her facial expression was neutral, brown eyes cold; the face itself was crisscrossed with bright red scars, dividing her face like a haphazard jigsaw puzzle. A closeup of her cutie mark revealed it to be a letter and quill.
Daring took in a slow breath through her nostrils, her muscles tensing as her eyes fell on the photograph. The last time that she’d seen Scarlet Letter, she’d been laying unconscious amidst the wreckage of their fight, her bloodied face shredded by the broken glass around them. For a moment, Daring remembered how her neck had felt so fragile in her hooves.
It would’ve been easy. So easy.
But it wouldn’t have been right.
Daring exhaled slowly and closed her eyes for a moment, bringing the hate under control and forcing it back into its cage.
“Since she got here, she’s been associating with some of our…higher-risk inmates,” Brick Wall said, giving Daring a meaningful glance and shifting aside some papers to reveal a typewritten list of Regular Associates. “I think that you might recognize a few names on this list.”
Daring Do studied the list in silence for a moment, then let out a groan. “Great. Just great.”
“What?” Strider asked.
“Family members,” Daring groaned.
“Family…” Strider’s jaw dropped. “Ooohhhh.”
“How many are in here?” Phillip asked.
“Twenty-two,” Brick Wall and Daring Do said at the same time.
“All of the living Family members besides me and Sparks,” Daring added.
“They were all moved here after repeated disciplinary problems and escape attempts from lesser-security facilities,” Brick Wall explained. “Most of them are in and out of solitary confinement, and they’re one of the most close-knit groups in here; they rarely interact with the other inmates. We know that the male and female ones are communicating with each other, but every time we shut down one line, they open up another.”
“Not surprised,” Daring grumbled.
“What makes you think that Scarlet is planning an escape?” Brick Wall asked.
Phil gave her a brief overview of their raid on Saint Goldleaf’s church. “Found .30-06 rounds made in the Crystal Empire there,” he explained. “Same rounds that a BAR uses. And she had access to those before.”
“I see,” Brick Wall nodded grimly.
“Are any of your staff members of Saint Goldleaf’s church?” Phillip asked.
“Not that I know of,” the warden admitted. “But Counterintelligence and Sticky Note would know more about the staff.”
“Is Scarlet close to any of the staff?” Phillip pressed.
“My officers are trained to keep their distance from the inmates,” Brick Wall coldly replied. “I doubt that any of them would’ve been taken over by her ‘charms.’”
Daring let out a breath. “Well, no point standing here delaying the inevitable. What cell is she in?”
“Follow me,” Brick Wall instructed, rising from the desk once more. She led them back down the stairs and into the boreal evening.
“The female wing is the closest one,” she said, pointing to the nearest circular concrete construction as they headed through the next gate.
Two more gates brought them within reach of the cellblock. Daring paused at the doorway, staring up at the three-story building stretching over her. Cast against the ever-darkening sky above, the cold, clinical design looked almost ominous, like a guillotine blade hanging over her head.
For a moment, she felt small and vulnerable. For a moment, she was back at Frostback, being pulled from the back of the transport, the shackles around her hooves and wings rattling as she was escorted to the intake gate.
Her stomach twisted in her gut and her knees suddenly felt weak.
“Daring?” Phillip asked, pulling her close.
Daring Do closed her eyes and forced herself to control her breathing. Inhale for five. Pause. Exhale for five. Pause. Repeat. You’re okay. You’re okay.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, nonetheless leaning against him, taking strength from his presence.
“You don’t need to--” Phil started to say.
“Yes. I do,” Daring scowled. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Brick Wall signaled the surveillance crystal watching over the thick metal doors leading into the cell blocks. With a loud buzz, the doors unlocked and slowly swung open.
“After you,” the warden beckoned her guests to enter.
They entered a sally port, the tiled floor slick with melted snow and slush; the doors slid shut and locked behind them, while another set before them blocked further entry. A window to the left revealed a security room with a single officer, sipping from a fresh thermos of coffee while she watched a panel of security displays.
“Good evening, Warden,” the senior burro saluted, the chevrons on his sleeves marking him as a sergeant. “Here to see somepony?”
“Scarlet Letter,” Brick Wall replied.
“Ah. Cell B27, ma’am. I’ll let Stargazer know you’re coming,” the burro nodded, hitting a button on the dashboard in front of him. The doors in front of them buzzed and slid open.
The sound hit them like a physical assault: dozens and dozens of voices all overlapping one another in a dreadful cacophony. Conversations, insults, curses, complaints, and more, blended together into an indistinct mess. Daring swallowed and had to take a few more deep breaths to convince her stomach not to violently expel its contents all over the floor.
Never let them see when they get to you.
Nonetheless, she stayed close to her husband’s side as they proceeded into the pit.
The cell block was organized in a panopticon style: the three floors of cells were placed on the interior walls of the circular building, with stairs connecting each floor. A small tower stood in the center of the cellblock, with windows all around the perimeter of the top floor. Officers stood in the tower and patrolled up and down the balconies, pausing to admonish some of the more troublesome inmates. More doors on the walls led to a mess hall and a gymnasium. The roof was domed by a skylight to allow for some natural light and a view of the sky: rain pattered against the double-laminated bulletproof glass, running down the sides.
“We’ll speak to Stargazer first,” the warden said, leading them towards the door set into the tower’s bottom, which obligingly buzzed as they approached.
As the group headed inside, some of the nearest inmates spotted them. The volume suddenly turned up on the mix of voices:
“Hey, hey! It’s Finder and his whore!”
“You put me in here, mudfucker! I swear to Faust, I’ll--”
“Hey! Hey, Daring Do! Why don’t you and I take a shower together?!”
“Bring your bitch over here! Come and stay awhile--”
“--gave you that scar on your bitchass face, Finder? I’d like to shake their hoof!”
“--shove that stupid hat up your--”
“--use that whip in the bedroom? You dirty--”
Daring and Phillip both let out a sigh as the door slammed behind them. “Least we got a fanbase,” Daring cracked weakly through a thin smile as they proceeded up a narrow staircase and into the central office.
The circular office had floor-to-ceiling reinforced windows on every wall, allowing the officers inside to watch the entire cell block. A locked metal case on the wall contained a selection of shotguns and assault rifles for an emergency. On a table in the center were notepads, binders containing protocols and check-in logs, and battery chargers for the walkie-talkies. A roster on the wall displayed a list of cells and their occupants, with mug shots pinned up next to them. A door to one side led to a small bathroom.
Two officers were standing in the office, watching the cellblock through the windows. A thestral sergeant turned to face his visitors, his purple mustache bristling as he exhaled. “Warden, agent, detectives,” Stargazer greeted them.
“We’re here to speak to Scarlet Letter,” Phillip said.
“Ah, yes, the author,” Stargazer deadpanned, looking over to a cell on the second floor.
Daring glared through the window at the cell. The unicorn mare, clad in a harsh orange jumpsuit, lay on her bunk, her back to the rest of the cell. Judging from the motion of her head, she was writing in a notebook like the ones that were neatly stacked on the floor next to the toilet and sink. The muscles in Daring’s forelegs clenched and her heart began to speed up, breath coming sharp and quick through her nostrils.
“What’s she been doing here?” Phillip asked.
“She socializes with some of the other inmates during her free hours,” Stargazer explained. “She’s well-behaved, mostly: works in the laundry, spends most of yard doing laps.” He scowled. “It’s the quiet ones that you gotta look out for. You sure that she’s planning an escape?”
“Most likely suspect,” Phillip replied. “We need to talk to her.”
Stargazer glanced at him, then panned his gaze over the rest of the inmates. “You sure that that’s a good idea?”
“Have you met him?” Strider smirked. “None of his ideas are good. Ow!” he added when Phillip and Daring both elbowed him.
The officers and warden all stared for a few seconds, then Stargazer looked at Brick Wall, who just shrugged slightly. “All right, if you’re sure,” the sergeant said, grabbing a radio off the wall. “Okay, guys, on your toes. We’ve got a couple of ponies who want to talk to Letter.”
The officers patrolling the ledges all saluted or nodded in acknowledgment, scrutinizing their charges for any sign of imminent danger.
“Here we go,” Strider exhaled as the trio once more descended the stairs and exited the tower.
Another set of metal stairs led them up to the second floor and they passed by cell door after cell door. The mares on the other side of the bars threw taunts as they passed, let out threats that could’ve been ripped from a dime novel, or just glared in baleful silence; only the presence of a griffon hen on patrol, orange eyes glaring and her beak carved into a severe scowl, kept them from doing more than heaping verbal abuse upon the visitors.
One cell caused the three investigators to pause briefly. Inside, sprawled on the bed, was a changeling with a solid black carapace. Her limbs were dotted with holes; her long “mane” of setae was colored a light aqua blue, tied back into a ponytail that ran down to her shoulder. Like all of the prisoners, the changeling had a silver metal band on her arm that prevented her from using any magic and served as a tracking device.
The changeling glared at them, her solid sapphire eyes cold. “What do you want?” she snarled, her translucent wings buzzing in agitation; her fangs gleamed in the harsh light of her cell.
“Chrysalis loyalist,” the griffon guard explained from the post. “All of the ones that stayed loyal to her are in here, eighteen in total.”
The changeling hissed at the guard and turned back to her book, pointedly ignoring them.
“Glad that they’re in here,” Phillip said, moving on with the other two following.
Finally, they reached cell B27 and paused outside. The unicorn on the bed continued writing, giving no acknowledgment of their presence.
“Scarlet,” Phillip called.
Scarlet Letter paused, then slowly set her pencil down. “You promised that every time I looked in the mirror, I would think of you,” she said; her voice was tinged with the familiar curious mixture of Prench and Crystalline accents, but now had a raspy undertone. She slowly sat up and turned around with a scowl. “Well, you made good on that, Madame Do.”
Daring Do glared at Scarlet through the bars, eyes tracing over the web of red scars on her enemy’s once-beautiful face, then looked over the notebooks neatly stacked on the floor. “Working on your next novel?”
“It passes the time,” Scarlet admitted. “Of course, finding a publisher is going to be difficult.” She took a breath and settled herself, then fixed the visitors with a placid smile, like a hostess entertaining her guests. “So. Bon soir, Monsieur Finder, Madame Do. Congratulations on your marriage, by the way.” She inclined her head to Agent Strider. “And you, monsieur. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“RBI Agent Flame Strider,” Strider nodded.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Scarlet replied. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
“Saint Goldleaf’s Church,” Phillip said.
Scarlet’s smile didn’t waver, though her eyes took on a condescending shade. “I’m afraid I have not been able to visit services for the past several months, detective. Is that name supposed to mean something?”
“We found .30-06 rounds from the Crystal Empire there,” Phillip said.
Scarlet tilted her head to one side. “And…?”
“Same rounds as a BAR uses,” Phillip said.
“As do Greenfields, Grands, Summerfields…” Scarlet pointed out. “This is a reason for you to suspect me?”
“And the Plague Doctor was there,” Daring said, pulling out the photograph of a smiling Scarlet. “Old friend of yours?”
Scarlet stiffened slightly, her poker face faltering.
"'Pour toujours,'" Daring read aloud, then sneered at Scarlet. "So does he keep the mask on when you're fucking?"
Scarlet replied with a viper’s smile and a soft, false laugh. “You would have made an excellent asset, Madame Do. I am eternally sorry that you couldn’t come to see things my way…but perhaps one day.”
“I paired up with a psychopath once,” Daring scowled. “Never again.”
Scarlet sighed and sadly shook her head. “We’re not so different, mon ami,” she replied, fixing Daring with a slightly pitying look.
“Haven’t we already gone over this?” Daring snarled, though her right hoof pawed at the floor as if scratching a remembered itch.
“But it’s true,” Scarlet continued. “You and I both fled from those who should have loved us and didn’t. You and I both found and forged a family and home for our own…”
“Spare me,” Daring spat.
“You and I both value our loved ones above anything,” Scarlet continued unabated. “Above the law, above our own lives. The difference is solely in our limits.” She smirked slightly. “And speaking of whom…”
A whistling caught Daring’s ears, carrying over the constant background noise. Two short whistles, followed by a longer, rising note and a final short chirp.
Daring’s heart dropped into her stomach. She knew that signal.
The rhythm repeated, louder and more insistent, coming from a cell further down the line from her. “Hey, si-is!” a voice sang out, a voice that she hadn’t heard in over two years. “Over he-ere!”
“Daring, don’t,” Phillip hissed, grabbing Daring’s shoulder, but she had already turned towards the voice, towards the familiar face that was grinning at her from behind a cell door a little further down the line.
The light gold unicorn mare kept her eyes on Daring as she approached; her smile never wavered, but the smile didn’t reach her light brown eyes, which looked cold and hard in the shade of the reddish-brown mane that framed her face. Her cutie mark was a four-leafed clover framed by an upside-down horseshoe.
“Well, well, well,” the mare said icily as Daring came within reach. “The prodigal daughter returned.”
“Hard Luck,” Daring nodded back. “Guess the name is finally fitting.”
Hard Luck’s smile was instantly replaced with a snarl. “The hardest luck I ever had was meeting you,” she growled, her hateful eyes roving over Daring’s body. She stared at Daring’s hat for a second before returning to her face, forcing another smile onto her countenance. "So, you're here to visit. Wanna say hi to all your sisters?"
The same whistling taunt echoed through the cellblock, assailing Daring's ears. Her heart racing in her chest, she slowly turned and looked about. Faces that she recognized leered at her from behind the cell doors, grinning and waving like they were greeting an old friend. Zephyr Dart, Snabbt Oga, Nail Driver...
"And don't forget your brothers," Hard Luck added. "They're all over in the male block."
"Too much to hope that any of them are in death row?" Daring asked, swallowing back the bilious taste of fear from her gut.
"You wish," Hard Luck replied, giving Daring's twitching wings a glance before returning her gaze to her face. “Look at you. You spend a year in prison and when you get out, you immediately latch onto the snoop, like a damn stray following some guy home. Tell me, how hard did you have to suck his dick before he let you stay?”
Anger flared in Daring’s chest but she forced it back down. “I’m paying off my debt, same as you are.”
“What debt?” Hard Luck spat, banging her hoof against the bars: her right hoof, marred with the brand in the crude shape of a set of keys. “What did we ever owe anypony? Are we supposed to be paying them back for every time we got kicked around or called ‘gutter trash’ or spat on just because we were born poor?”
“No: paying back our debt for every life we took, every family we tore apart, every thing that we stole,” Daring replied.
Hard Luck’s bared her teeth. “Just what I’d expect from big-hearted Daring Do. Priding herself on never taking a gun, spending all her free time chasing after lost treasures and selling them to museums…when she didn’t just give them away.” She leaned in close, snorting out a breath through her nostrils. “I don’t get it, Do. We broke bread together, sheltered together, worked together. You remember when you broke your wing in the Amarezon and I dragged your ass all the way back to camp and patched you up?”
“I do,” Daring replied evenly. “And I also remember you killing three of the natives when they tried to stop us from stealing their jewels.”
“Hey, we had a contract with a huge payout for those gems: money that was gonna pay for all of our food and board,” Hard Luck scoffed. “Wasn’t about to let some natives get in the way of our bread. That’s the only law out there: survival. You get what you need and you don’t apologize to anyone for it.”
Daring sighed. “Mojo put those thoughts in your head,” she said. “Don’t you get it? He manipulated all of us into being his good little lackeys.”
“No,” Hard Luck snapped back. “He took us in, gave us a home, taught us. He was the father that all of us never had, and if he was hard on you, it was because you needed a good spanking from time to time.”
“Caning me for refusing to kill somepony was a spanking?!” Daring shouted, the once-forgotten pain of the crisscrossed scars racing over her back.
“Life is hard; why should he have been any different?” Hard Luck spat back. “Boo-hoo, he wasn’t all soft and cuddly. He still loved you. Loved us all. And you still betrayed him. Betrayed us. Your family."
“He didn't love me for anything more than what I could do for him. And this was never my family,” Daring replied, holding up her right hoof.
Hard Luck’s eyes widened in disbelief when she saw the unblemished skin on her frog, then she gripped the bars with a growl of rage, rattling the iron as if she sought to tear them down and leap at Daring. “You ungrateful slut! If it hadn’t been for us, you wouldn’t be the mare you are today!”
“I know,” Daring said, keeping her voice even despite the tempest of emotion--pain, shame, grief, anger, and guilt--all tumbling about in her chest. “And I wish I wasn’t.”
She returned to the stallions, taking slow breaths through her nostrils. Her argument seemed to have riled up the inmates, for they were heckling her in louder tones. Officers patrolling the cells began to respond to the more aggressive inmates, barking out orders for them to back off, but it was like they were desperately trying to stamp down a rising forest fire with blankets.
Scarlet smiled wanly and shook her head in response to one of Phil’s comments. “Face it, Detective Finder: you have nothing. I suggest you go on home before you start a riot.”
“We’ll be back,” Finder scowled at her as they turned to go.
“Oooh, I can’t wait,” Scarlet purred, exaggeratedly panning her gaze over Phillip’s flanks and making sure that Daring saw her. Daring gave her a glare that could melt stone but only received a smirk in response.
"See you soon, sis!" Hard Luck called to Daring as they started to descend the stairs back to the main floor. Other voices called out to her over the constant noise, like drills into her ears.
"Look at me, bitch!" Snabbt Oga snarled, the aquamarine griffon reaching through the bars of her cell door, talons scratching the air. "Look me in the eyes!"
"You think you're still sharp?" Zephyr Dart taunted, the blue-white pegasus pacing her cell, wings twitching. "Just give me a gun and we'll see how good you still are!"
"I always beat you sparring, Do!" Nail Driver barked, the bulky yellow earth pony slamming one huge hoof into the other. "This time, we do it for real!"
Daring held her head up high, trying to force the insults and jeers to slide off her back even as each one felt like a hot barb digging into her guts. Phillip walked close by her side and she had to stop herself from leaning against him.
As the trio descended down a different set of steps to the ground floor, a voice in a strange, sing-song accent spoke up behind them. "Well, well, look who it is. Miss me, Agent Strider?"
Strider stopped and turned to find himself looking at a creamy white zebra mare. Her long, scruffy striped mane swept around the curved horn on her forehead; she fixed Strider and Phillip with a serpentine smirk, her emerald eyes appearing almost black in the low lighting. Her cutie mark was of a serpent coiled around a five-pointed star.
"Xixphy," Strider said coldly.
Daring and Phil both turned. "That's the mare from Neigh Orleans, right?" Daring asked.
"The one with the basilisk, yes," Phillip nodded.
"Glad to see you here instead of an asylum," Strider told the swamp witch.
"Took some work, but I eventually convinced them that I was completely sane and in control of myself," Xixphy chuckled darkly, keeping her eyes on Strider.
"Right. Because murdering nearly a dozen ponies to try to harvest their souls and make yourself into a demigod is a rational act," Strider snorted.
"Oh, you put too much of a premium on other ponies' lives," Xixphy rolled her eyes. "Tell me, did you give much thought about the eggs you had for breakfast or the flowers you trample underhood walking down the street?"
"Ponies aren't eggs or flowers," Strider growled back, turning away.
"Oh, it all comes out to the same in the end," Xixphy shrugged and waved her hoof dismissively. "Now go on, go on back to pretty little Snow and pretty little Jett."
Strider froze for a moment, then whirled around. "How do you know about them?" he asked.
"I wouldn't be much of a sorceress if I didn't know things," Xixphy replied in a low purr like a jungle cat stalking a bird.
Strider glared at her through the bars. "You do anything to them--"
"And you'll what, Colt Scout?" Xixphy sneered. "Besides, what am I gonna do from in here?"
"Xixphy! That's enough!" Brick Wall barked as she approached.
"Of course, warden," Xixphy simpered exaggeratedly. She walked to the back of her cell, her smirk never wavering from Strider. Strider glared at her, then turned back to the warden with a grunt.
“I’ll have my officers toss Scarlet’s cell, and we’ll move her to solitary in the basement for the time being,” Brick Wall informed the detectives. “Back in my offices, you’ll find copies of all of her outgoing mail. Ask Sticky Note and Counterintelligence for help.”
“Ripper,” Phillip nodded as officers closed in on Cell B27, one of them holding a set of shackles. “Should also check Family members’ mail. See if there’s anything. Right, Daring?”
Daring just nodded numbly and allowed the others to escort her back out of the cellblock, the taunts and bellows of the inmates chasing them out of the metal entrance. The door buzzed closed behind them and they proceeded through the sally port and out.
They finally allowed themselves to relax when they reached the cold, darkening evening outside the cellblock and the door securely shut behind them. For a few moments, they leaned against the concrete wall, breathing deeply.
“Let’s get outta here,” Daring said, leading the way back to the chainlink fence. Phillip stood close to her side, both of them pretending not to notice how hard she was shaking.