The gray riverbed winds through the frostbitten earth, disappearing into the distant horizon.
A neat yet dilapidated circular complex stands alone beneath the snow-capped mountains, as if abandoned by God, humanity, and ghosts alike.
Outside the fence, three uninvited guests discuss their plan to get inside.
Recoleta: Behold! Comala Prison! It's the biggest building around. When the sun comes out, it looks like a rusty button stitched into the earth.
Recoleta: Everyone tries not to pay attention to it, but it's undoubtedly one of the most important places in town. This way, careful, we're heading uphill—Oops!
The young writer begins to slip again. She is prevented only by Sonetto's quick reflexes.
Recoleta: Phew! Thanks. So, my new friends! You're from that St. Palomino's ...
Sonetto: St. Pavlov Foundation.
Sonetto: And Vertin is the Timekeeper there.
Recoleta: Ah, very impressive! Sounds all official and polished! Then, I take it you've already got a way into the prison?
The gate presents an unwelcoming face to the world.
Sonetto: I'll draft a letter to headquarters right away. Once they approve it, they'll notify the local branch in Buenos Aires. From there, they'll need to inform the Argentine government,
Sonetto: who will then issue us a permit.
Recoleta: Excellent! Looks like our bureaucrats still have some worth. No offense intended, of course.
Sonetto: Since we're pressed for time, I believe we can ask that headquarters give high priority to our request. If all goes well, we should have the permit in about a month.
Recoleta: Ah. How, how expedient of them! But you know what? Maybe we shouldn't bother all those hard-working government officials with these trifling matters after all.
She instantly returns to her previous judgment.
Recoleta: I have a simpler solution that suits the urgency of our cause!
Sonetto: That sounds great. Oh! Umm, where are you going, Ms. Recoleta?
Before anyone can stop her, the young writer hurls herself up the wall, scaling the side with the sort of skill that immediately suggests she's done this before.
Recoleta: To the other side of the wall, of course! From Guadalajara to Ushuaia, there has yet to be a wall that could stop me!
Recoleta: Come on, ladies of the Foundation! Sonetto, take my hand!
Sonetto looks utterly flustered.
Sonetto: Ms. Recoleta, please! A reckless act like that could have serious consequences! Please come back down!
Sonetto: In fact, while the details of our mission are classified, I should warn you, it may be dangerous, and we cannot guarantee your safety once we're inside. Perhaps it's in your best interest to return to town.
Recoleta: What? That is definitely not in my best interest!
Recoleta: What sort of pusillanimous coward would I be if I just abandoned my fated companions here? Of course, I'm going in with you, or rather, you're coming with me!
Vertin: Please get down, Ms. Recoleta. Someone's coming our way.
From the other side of the prison fence, a predator's gaze locks onto the figure perched on the wall.
???: Stop right there! What do you think you're doing?!
Recoleta: Damn! It's her again. The jailer of Comala!
Sonetto: Did she say jailer or jaguar?
COMBAT
Jailer: Ms. Recoleta. Haven't I made myself clear? I don't want to see you here again.
Recoleta: Jailer! We meet again! What a delightful encounter on such a—
A sudden gust of cold wind interrupts her.
Recoleta: —lovely day!
Jailer: Would you please just leave this place alone?
Jailer: I'll never understand why a promising young woman like you keeps snooping around a prison.
Jailer: I can't make this any clearer: trying to break into Comala will do nothing to get you inside, but it will get you into a world of trouble with the gendarmes.
Jailer: So, will you stop these senseless break-in attempts?
Jailer: Comala Prison is only accessible to academic researchers and journalists, and even they must have official credentials in order to enter.
Recoleta: Isn't there any other way to pay a visit? I truly do need to get in there.
She racks her brain for a plausible excuse.
Vertin: Sorry to interrupt, but did you just say "official credentials"?
Jailer: Yes, you heard me right. And you are?
Vertin: I'm the Timekeeper of the St. Pavlov Foundation.
Vertin: My assistant and I are here to visit Comala Prison on official orders from the Foundation. Here, this is my ID.
Sonetto: ...
At the thought of lying, Sonetto's lips fail to open for even a squeak. She goes flush red with embarrassment.
Through the prison fence, the jailer examines the pair as she takes the ID in her sizeable paws.
It is at least a very presentable-looking card, boldly stamped with the seal of the St. Pavlov Foundation.
Jailer: This is indeed legitimate.
She murmurs.
Jailer: Welcome to Comala Prison.
Jailer: Apologies for my earlier behavior. It's been a while since we've had any official visitors.