//------------------------------//
// Red Handed 
// Story: Wild Card: Two of A Kind 
// by Barrel-of-fun 
//------------------------------//

For most people, prison is regarded as the single worst place to find yourself. They see it as a horrible, dreary place occupied only by the lowest dregs of society. Whilst this is technically true, they overlook one important factor.

It is a great place to meet the lowest dregs of society.

Ace watched appraisingly as a stallion who appeared to be made entirely of slabs of meat haphazardly held together by a fur coat was marched past by two guards. A bit of muscle was always a good thing to have along right? Always good if the situation went south. His thoughts were derailed by the sound of the musclebound pony attempting to head butt his way through a solid metal cell bar. On second thoughts, maybe a little brain would be nice to go along with all that brawn.

“Move it! Come on!” A guard shouted, emphasising his point with a jab of his spear.

“Ow!” Ace rubbed at the spot where he had been poked, “Why would you do that? That was just mean and unnecessary.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m serious. Such hostility in the workplace can only lead to trouble.”

The guard sighed wearily, “I’m sorry. It’s just…it’s been a long week you know?”

Ace smiled kindly down at him, his eyes wide and understanding, “My friend, I just want you to know something. No matter how hard your life may seem, or how many troubles you may be going through, you have absolutely no way of comprehending how little I care about them.”

The guard’s smile, which had been steadily growing more and more throughout the speech, slid completely off his face at the end. With a sharp jab, he stabbed the satyr lightly with his spear, managing to draw blood.

“Agh! Bitch!” Ace howled, clutching at his side, “That better not leave a mark. Harassment! Prisoner mistreatment!”

“Nobody cares.” The guard muttered with a vicious grin as he shoved the satyr into a cell, closing it with a slam.

Ace sat on his cot and stared morosely at the retreating guard, his head in his hands. So he was in prison, again. Not the greatest start to a mission he had ever had, and yet not the worst either. He could come back from this. Easy.

Slowly, the satyr turned his head to look at his cell mate, a maneless pegasus with a colourfully dyed coat. The pony version of a tattoo perhaps? More worrying than the pony’s artwork was the unnerving grin that stretched across his muzzle.

“We’re going to be friends, you and I.” He said with a voice like sandpaper being rubbed against the devil’s crotch. 

Ace sighed.





“What do you mean he’s been caught?” 

The mare, not for the first time in her life, cursed her sensitive ears. Take for example, the screeching griffoness that was looming over her, talons digging into the desk. She really should have expected this when the strutting half-lion entered, a self-satisfied smile plastered across her beak. Griffons could be so confrontational.

“Once again ma’am, yes. Ace the magician was captured by Officer Burberry early this morning.”

“He’s the most elusive thief this side of Canterlot!”

“He was caught next to a burning building.”

“He’s evaded more guards than you’ve had hot meals!”

“He was holding the matches in his hands.”

“But…but…”

“We also have a lot of witnesses. Under questioning the suspect said,” She cleared her throat before quickly reading the statement, “’I may have done it, but you’ll never take me alive!’ He was in an interrogation room at the time and, after this statement was made, calmly sat down and drank his water.”

“…really?” The griffoness’s voice had gone distinctly weaker. She almost felt sorry for the poor dear.

“Indeed. We suspect that he might be going for the insanity defence.”

The mare took the time to enjoy the silence as the young hen stared off into the distance, mouth opening and closing as she evidently tried to comprehend what had happened. Just as she looked like she had come up with something to say, she was cut off by a massive shadow that loomed over her. Both mare and girffoness craned their necks up to look into the face of a minotaur.
The receptionist felt her face heat up as she locked gazes with the mighty creature. He was, like most of his species, bulging with muscles. Though she would never admit it, the mare had a secret guilty pleasure for minotaur muscle. And this particular specimen was a prime example. The conservative white shirt he wore strained at the seams as it tried to contain his bulk and, wrapped around his thick neck, was a scrap of cloth that, on anyone smaller, could have been called a tie. Perched upon the end of his muzzle was a comically small pair of glasses whilst his hand was clutched around a briefcase that, unlike the rest of his attire, was appropriately sized for him.

“Good day ladies.” He said pleasantly.

“G-good day,” She managed to stumble out, her attention now completely focussed on the minotaur, “How can I help you?”

“Ah yes, I believe you have recently taken my client, a curious fellow by the name of Ace, into custody? I am his attorney.” In a flash, papers were produced and placed onto the desk before her. “If you would be so kind as to arrange a meeting for us, I believe that we can sort out this little misunderstanding swiftly.”

Professionalism drowned out the small voice in her head that kept shouting ‘Do it! He’s big and sexy and he’ll like you for it.’ She had taken care not to listen to that voice since college. Instead she looked down at the papers with a careful eye. They were simply the standard legal documents that certified that the minotaur in front of her was in fact the attorney for ‘Ace’ as well as the signed notification for a lawyer-client meeting.

“Okay, everything seems to be in order here. I’ll just need to clear this with the chief and then you can get your meeting. Please wait here.”

Grabbing the documents, the mare trotted off, pointedly ignoring the annoyed huff from the griffoness.





Rosamund couldn’t believe it. After all the work she had put into hunting down this thief he had had the audacity just to give himself up! And not even to her! No, he had to surrender to some idiot officer who would probably be getting a promotion thanks to his ability to be in the right place at the right time. Meanwhile, she, who had tracked down leads with the sort of tenacity that would impress the most stubborn of diamond dogs, would be getting nothing! No reward. No recognition. No front page article.

And now she was left in a room with the thief’s lawyer. What a ridiculous notion. She cast a sharp gaze over to the minotaur in question and snorted. Who even hired a minotaur to be their lawyer? They were brutes, every one of them. If that was supposed to be Ace’s attorney then she might as well as give up now. Maybe if he had hired a unicorn or even a pegasus to defend him then he might have got off, meaning that she would have free reign to hint him down.

What was she supposed to tell Brain and Brow? That the criminal they had been hunting for the last six months had managed to get himself caught by the local guard? That they’d messed up big time?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the return of the receptionist.

“Sir? If you would like to follow me, your meeting is in interrogation room three.”

“This is to be a private meeting of course? Attorney-client privileges.”

“Of course sir, the recording gems have been disabled in the room and the monitoring staff have left. You and your client will have complete privacy.”

“Excellent, if you could lead the way?” The minotaur lawyer rose from his pony-sized seat and grabbed his briefcase. As he did so, something inside the case made a distinct clanking sound. Something metal, without a doubt.

Across the room, the receptionist evidently hadn’t heard as she simply smiled, “Of course, right this way.”

As the two left, Rosamund felt her hopes begin to rise. A minotaur lawyer was a ridiculous notion. But a minotaur partner? Someone who could help you out if things went south like, say, if you were arrested by the guard?

That was perfectly plausible.

Leaning back, Rosamund grinned. Now all she had to do was wait.





After battling gangsters, burning down a warehouse and surrendering to the local guard, it had been quite a long day for Ace. So it was no surprise that, when the guard came to collect him, he was trying his best to get to sleep on the stone slate that served as the prison beds.

“Hey! Ace! You’ve got a visitor.” 

With a groan, the magician roused himself and crawled out of bed, rubbing one hand through his hair as he stared blearily at the guard.

“What? Who?”

The guard, however, wasn’t listening. Instead he appeared to be absorbed with the sight of the bruised lump that occupied the other bed in the cell. Moans occasionally issued from the pile of injuries and tattoos.

“What happened to him?” The guard asked. 

Ace shrugged casually, “Fell down the stairs. Now you said something about a visitor?”

“Yeah,” The guard shook his head, “Your attorney is here. Big minotaur guy. He’s waiting for you in interrogation room three.”

“Minotaur?” Ace said, a smile beginning to appear on his face.

With a short burst of magic, the guard opened the cell door and approached the satyr, “Limbs forwards please.”

Obligingly, Ace held his hands in front of them, watching in amusement as a pair of cuffs were secured over his wrists. A pair of standard issue pony legcuffs like this would take him seven – maybe eight - seconds to get off if given a chance. 

“Follow me.” The guard ordered as he led him through the halls of the guard station. It was not long before the guard stopped outside a door. Evidently, the station wasn’t that big. “I shall return in half an hour to return you to your cell.”

“And the cuffs?” Ace asked hopefully, his hands held out before him.

He got a glare in response, “They stay on.”

With that the guard opened the door and backed away, allowing the satyr to enter before slamming it shut behind him. Inside the room, Ace could hear the guard stomping away. At the table, his back to the door, was a giant horned figure. Ace swung his arms out wide to greet his old friend.

“Iron! What are you doing here? Where’s Summer?”

The minotaur in question didn’t respond immediately, busy with the briefcase that lay on the table in front of him. With a click, the case swung open, one of the minotaur’s thick hands reached inside.

Ace leapt back as the minotaur swung around, a wicked hand-axe cleaving through the air just in front of the satyr, missing him by mere inches.

“I think you might have me confused with someone else.” Definitely-not-Iron-Will said with a rumble. His other hand came into view, an identical axe held loosely in it. 

“Now then, why don’t you take a seat? We have a lot to discuss.”