A Shadow Came Unto Me

A Shadow Came Unto Me
Part 2: Tattoos 101

“So tell me,” Proto Star asked. “Have you considered your tattoo yet? Everypony has at least one in here, even in minimum security.” He took a drag of his cigarette. It only then occurred to me that Proto was burning the prison-equivilant of money.

“Tattoo?” I looked back at my flank, a vial with two separated liquids in it. Oil Base, get it? Like a salad dressing seperates itself if you let it sit too long.

“No not that one, an inside mark,” He turned a hoof over to show me his ankle. On it, hidden in the short fur was an unmistakable tattoo. A playing card. “I got the nine of diamonds.” He smirked proudly.

“Does that mean something?” I asked.

“I keep forgetting you’re new and don’t have any intel on how prison life really works. Just got into the gen-pop.” He studied my puzzled expression. “Ugh! General Population! The ponies in here like us!” he took a drag, coming down off the table and sitting next to me. “You’re new and you’re interesting to talk with, so I’ll give ya a crash course. But anything past that you gotta pay like everyone else.” He gestured to the breast pocket of his neon orange vest. It bulged with cigarettes. “Tattoos can tell ya a lot about a pony in prison.” He peered around for a moment, looking for an example. He nodded and I followed his gaze. “That guy over there, see the teardrop on his face?” I nodded. “A hollowed out tear-drop shape means that one of his buddies was killed. A black, filled-in one would mean he’d killed somepony.”

“But they don’t keep murderers in min-sec, do they?” I looked away when said stallion glanced our way.

Proto nodded that I was right. “Card suites can tell you even more. Numbers tell status, and suites tell types of ponies. I, for example, am the nine of diamonds in these parts.” He smirked again with pride, but then remembered I had no idea what he was talking about. “Ahem!” he took a drag, thinking for a bit to put it in words. “Diamonds,” he turned his hoof over again to show me the tattoo he had, “Are reserved for stool pigeons, informants, and information trackers.”

“You sold somepony out?” I whispered.

“There was a drug ring, I’ll not make any excuses,” he said, steepling his hooves and looking to one side. “They were moving more filly-weed then you can possibly imagine, even on major roads and major cities.”

“And you told on them? What happened?” I whispered.

“I found out one day,” his eyes saw the past as he spoke, “That sometimes ‘filly-weed’ just meant fillies.” His brow lowered angrily. “They caught over eighty ponies and other creatures because of me, and freed over a hundred little ones.” I opened my mouth to eagerly praise him, but he held up a hoof, “But that didn’t keep me from landin’ in here. Just got me a reduced sentence.”

“How long…?”

“Nine years. This is about half-way through, I think,” he rolled his eyes a little. “Anyhoo! I got a tattoo, ehhhh a little forcefully,” he admitted. “As the five of diamonds. An informant that shouldn’t be trusted lightly. Somepony that could blab to the guards, sell you out, or some such. But,” he paused for a drag, “Four years is a good amount of time to build up a good rep among the guys in here. They tell me things, I tell them things, and I sell information as I see fit.”

“I see…” I said slowly, not sure if I liked this guy anymore.

“Anyhoo!” he coughed a little, then took out a well-worn deck of cards. He passed them back and forth like we were going to play crazy eights. “Diamonds are for info. That’s me.” He put the nine of hearts in front of himself. “Spades are for thieves. Rapers like you fit into this category as well.” He smirked when I scowled angrily at him. “Yeah yeah, you didn’t do it, keep spinnin’ that tale.” I thought he’d believed me before, now I wasn’t sure. “Stealin’ sex is still thievery in the cards,” he put the two of spades in front of me. “One for you, and one for each victim you’ve had. Anyhoo,” he shuffled the deck rather impressively, back and forth. “Clubs are for criminals in general. Destroyers, fighters, drunk and disorderlies, that sort of stuff. It’s the lowest suite.” He turned over the three of spades, leaving it to one side.

“And hearts?” I asked.

Proto grinned and shook his head, “You don’t want a heart, trust me,” he flung the seven of hearts from the deck and it spun on the shiny metal table. “It means you’re looking for a companion. An empty one for looking, and a filled one for… well… receiving.” He let the air quotes hang for a bit.

“…Oh,” I said carefully. I picked up the two of spades.

“So now let’s hear the obvious question.” He let me study his tattoo for a time.

“You were the five of diamonds, why are you the nine now?” I mumbled, leaning to see that four of the diamonds inked into his skin were newer than the others.

“I inherited the other four.”

“From who?”

“From the pony that saw your ghost mare last. He hung himself with his bedsheet.” Proto Star gestured to a bent rail high on the third level of the cells. I turned to look, mouth a little agape. “Some mix of seniority and bad luck.”

“So you got his four diamonds?” I asked.

“Mhm,” he said. “And when I get out, all nine will be up for grabs. Whoever the worst tattle tale in the place is, or whoever gets here with charges similar to mine, will inherit them.”

“Wow,” I said. “I didn’t know all this was so… intricate,” I said, looking around for other tattoos. “Was there ever a ten of diamonds?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Proto smiled a little grimly. There was an awkward silence and I suddenly felt like I’d spoken a taboo. “Ehhhh tens, no matter the suite, don’t tend to last very long, if you know what I mean.” He ran a hoof across his neck in a line.

“You mean you were one grade below a…?”

“A dead pony, yah. Tens are basically targets on your chest.” He shuddered a little.

“Even hearts?” I asked.

“Even hearts,” he nodded. “Even in prison living as a slut doesn’t tend to end well.” I snickered before I could stop myself. This seemed to raise the mood. “Anyhoo! Just saying you should consider something. If you’re gonna be here for, what’d you say, five years? You’re basically a walking canvas right now. Best label yourself before somepony else does it for you.”

I picked up the two of spades, looking warily down at it. “But I didn’t…” I mumbled, ears slowly splaying sideways.

“Whether you did it or not, think on it,” Proto rose when somepony he knew passed by. “If ponies can’t identify what you are, they’ll try to take advantage of you. One way, or another.” He made an obscene gesture, laughed, and was away. I sat there with his deck of cards, staring bleakly at the one he’d assigned me.

It would be over a week later before I got to the proper pony to put the ink on my left shoulder. Two of spades. The thief’s suit. The raper’s suit. Love stealer. Even if it wasn’t true, it seemed to lower the suspicion of others around me. Whether I was innocent or not, I’d become one of them.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I’d been in min-sec perhaps three weeks when the next ‘sighting’ occurred. I’d come to call them sightings after talking with Cypher enough. He was very clinical, very analytical about our she-ghost. And while plenty of obscene jokes and innuendos went around when there was mention of a mare in our midst, there was dead seriousness when it came to her being real or not. Enough prisoners had seen her, even the lone griffon among us gave a solemn nod (he was mute) when asked.

But what I did expect was another direct visit. Don’t take anything from her, they’d told me. I already had. I’d scratched the royal seal of Celestia on my wall with my crayon, hoping to ward her away. The wax melted and dribbled down like raindrops, and I knew she was there, late one night. The almost-full moon cast a beam across my room, just enough to see it happening.

“The light,” she husked softly. She melted from the floor, up the wall, and rested on the ceiling. “Put out the light…” she whispered.

“Who’s there?” I whispered, though I knew perfectly well.

“Put out the light!” she hissed like a screeching cockroach, startling me. My bedframe hopped, clanging on the stone floor. I leapt from the bed before it bucked me out. Taking my bedsheet before she made any more noise and got me in trouble, I stuffed it up into the window . The bars held it there, blotting out the silvery moonlight.

“There,” I whispered, putting my butt against the corner and looking around. “Where are you? What do you want with me?” I had to get as much info as I could to report to Cypher. If she could give answers, maybe we could figure her out. A long, black tendril of molten goo splattered onto my shoulder. I shrieked, leaping onto the bed to furiously rub it off. It was like hot candle wax! Pushing back the hot tears and holding myself, I tumbled to the floor. My eyes looked upward, and even today I pray they hadn’t. My ceiling was gone, buried under a layer of upside down boiling decay. Black, tar-like bubbles issued back and forth, the hint of bone and bodies under it. A long, horse-like muzzle pierced the blackness, then sank again. I covered my eyes with a loud whimper, turning and curling up into a ball. I heard more ropes of the stuff coming down around me, making an unholy cave of midnight, sloppy pillars. “Wh-what do you want?!” I cried over the hissing, acidic sounds as it ate through my floor and molded my bed into oblivion.

“You said you were innocent,” a slow voice burbled. I looked about. There was no mouth to have said the words. “Wouldn’t you rather be imprisoned for something you’d actually done?”

“I-I don’t understand!” A loud slorping sound produced a shiny, metallic pod. It burst on my bed like a wet balloon, producing… Cobweb Dew. I froze in place, for she moaned and turned over pathetically. She coughed slop, a black chunky nothingness coming out over the wall. Her tail had been shorn close to her butt, leaving pretty much everything on display. Despite my horror my stallionhood thrilled out into the open. “C-Cobweb?” I whispered.

She flinched when she heard my voice. “O-Oil Base?!” she said. “What’s happened?! Where are we?!” Like an apocalyptic jello mold the darkness rushed up and over the bars of my cell, filling the space between them. We were plunged into darkness absolute before a tendril turned up my firefly lantern. No escape. No window. No moonlight. Just the bare shape of two ponies and the slimy oblivion around them.

“Jail,” I said softly. “S-sort of,” I amended. She looked around in horror. The dripping, decaying, bubbling madness around us could not have been real… but it was. I felt myself walking forward.

“Aren’t you angry about what she’s done to you?” a little voice whispered in my ear. “Don’t you think it’s such a crime that she’s walking free and you’re not?”

“Wh-who is that?!” Cobweb cried. Long tendrils fastened her, facedown and rump up, into the bed. Or what was left of it, really. My penis throbbed at the very idea. Not like there were any mares around here anyway. Now here was one on a silver platter.

“I loved you, and you betrayed me,” I whispered softly, a large hoof caressing her shapely rump. I’d mounted her enough times before to know all the secret spots. She whimpered, blubbering softly into the slime she lay in. I reared up a bit, she beneath me.

“Take her!” the little voice egged. “Take her like the filthy whore she is! She put you in jail for this, at least make it true!” A slickened, oily appendage stroked me a few times. I groaned, hunching over the horrified mare until I could take no more. “She’s all yours, Oil Base! All yours!”

With a loud crack, I spanked her ass and threw her aside, out of the bed. “Run home to Daddy you bitch!” I cried, tears suddenly sprouting. “You! You! Whoever you are!” I rushed to the window frame, grasping the bedsheet with my teeth and hooves. “Leave! Me! Alone!” I thrust it down and the moonlight lanced into the room like a holy sword.

The shadowy thing screeched, boiling away like so much water. The pillars of slime bent away as though in pain, sparkling and cracking until they were no more. Cobweb Dew burst from existence in a shower of black sparks. My bed grooooooaned back into its normal shape. The black jello barrier melted away from the bars of my cell. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

I awoke on a dry, well-made bed. The pillow was wet, as though I’d been weeping in my sleep. “Hey man, you up or not? You been moaning in your sleep.” Proto Star was in my doorway. “Somepony heard a rumor there might be jelly beans with lunch today! Neat huh! It must be a holiday or something outside!” he grinned, shoving my shoulder and checking himself in the mirror. “Better get up so a guard doesn’t have to get you up!” he was out of my cell and gone before I could call out to him. I looked down to slowly swing my hooves to the floor.

The magic circle was back, on my floor. I watched it hiss angrily out of existence. It had been three feet across that time. I held my aching, bloodshot eyes. “No…” I whimpered a little. “I’m so dead… I’m so dead…” I felt myself rocking back and forth a little. “Next nightfall, she’s gonna be pissed… so dead… so dead…”

End of Part 3