Queenpins 2: The Big Brass Ballad of Kronii Ouro

No Deal

Sweat dripped down my brow as I stared down the City Striplon Steak cooked to perfection set before me as it steamed its aromatics upwards and into my nostrils. Enma proceeded to baste the steak with an au jus sauce simmered with wine and a slight hint of herbed butter, drizzling the delicious liquid bronze over the steak and the collard greens - both of which were impeccably plated. My drooling mouth threatened to become a waterfall.

Enma put away the saucepan and smiled at me, "Please. Eat."

Beside me, my Block's forewoman, Bijou Koseki, was already digging into her steak. She, despite her rough and rocky attitude, ate with ladylike manners and grace that I never would have expected from her. Enma sat down and followed suit, eating with the same high-class etiquette.

Paired with the Irys jazz record playing on the record player, the Aruranian wine served in proper wine glasses and the smoke rising up from an ashtray holding Enma's cigar, I could have deluded myself that I was back in The City, sitting at the private tables of The Nephilim Club on a Monday night.

I licked my lips and steeled my resolve, but my traitorous stomach grumbled again. I winced, picked up my utensils and started to eat.

It tasted incredibly good... but I couldn't help but think of blood.

I kept eating.

Enma smiled and watched me from across the table.

"So, what do you think?" Enma asked, picking up her lit cigar from the ashtray, "It's medium rare. Just like you like it."

"It beats the prison food." I answered honestly.

"Understatement of the century." Bijou piped up.

Enma laughed.

"But this is prison food, dear Kronii." Enma corrected, puffing on her cigar, "Prison can be as comfortable or as uncomfortable as you make it, you see." She set down her cigar and picked up her wine glass, "But the meal you're having now is a privilege for those who have good heads on their shoulders - and people who can provide value. Heh. Value to me, of course."

I gulped down my morsel of steak and looked Enma straight in the eyes.

"How the hell did you end up here, Enma?" I asked her directly, "After what you did in The City, you were gonna get the electric chair!"

"Hey...!" Bijou lashed at me. She promptly wielded her steak knife and furrowed her brow. She held it up so high I could see my reflection on the oil-smeared blade.

I gulped.

"Now, now, Biboo." Enma shook her head, "Kronii and I have a history. That's just the way she is. Don't get too excited."

Bijou heaved a sigh and continued to eat. Meanwhile, I heaved a sigh of relief. Enma, meanwhile, sipped her wine and recounted her tale.

"You're right. I was put into death row for using a Pekolander mania-inducing chemical weapon on citizens of The Nation. That's what they wrote on the papers." Enma swirled the wine in her glass and smirked, "But here's the thing, Kronii. I have connections who... see the value in the kind of work that I can do on their behalf. I pulled some of their strings to get me out of Death Row - then I called in some favors to take me out of Maximum Security." She sipped her wine again, adding, "Death sentence became life in prison. Then life in prison became twenty years."

"When the hell did that happen!?" I frowned, "It wasn't on the news!"

"But it was." Enma wagged her finger, "My death sentence was on the front pages. My... acquitals and commutations were between the funnies and the obituaries - pages nobody reads."