Steel Ocean

The heat in Green Dolphin Street Prison felt heavier today—thick, suffocating, pressing against Jolyne's skin like a second layer of fabric. The air smelled of sweat, dirt, and rust, a mix of Florida humidity and prison life that never quite faded.

Jolyne sat on the edge of a concrete bench, absently rolling a cigarette between her fingers, deep in thought.

Her father's Stand DISC was still missing. His memories, stolen.

And she had no idea who the hell had it.

She exhaled sharply, irritated. Every second that passed was another second Pucci and Whitesnake got ahead of her, and she couldn't afford that. Wouldn't afford that.

Across from her, Ermes Costello sat with one leg draped over the other, chewing a piece of gum like she had all the time in the world.

"So," Ermes said, stretching her arms behind her head, "how exactly do you plan on finding this damn thing? Not like we can just walk up and ask, 'Hey, have you seen a suspicious glowing disc lying around?'"

Jolyne sighed. "There's gotta be a trail. Someone's got it. And if someone's got it, they're probably dumb enough to leave a mess behind."

Ermes snorted. "That's a hell of a lot of 'ifs.'"

"It's all we've got," Jolyne muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Then, movement caught her eye.

Not much—just a flicker of something out of place, something that shouldn't have been watching.

She turned her head, slow and deliberate, and her gaze landed on Isabella E.O. Speedwagon.

Leaning against a fence post, arms crossed, emerald-green eyes assessing her with an unreadable expression.

Jolyne clicked her tongue. This chick again.

Isabella had been watching.

Not obviously, not in a way that would draw attention, but she was there.

She had seen the way Jolyne's shoulders had tensed when she thought too hard about her father. The way her fingers twitched against her knee—a telltale sign of a fighter holding back frustration.

And Isabella, despite herself, had been ensuring small advantages for her.

Nothing obvious.

Just... small things.

Like making sure the gate to the courtyard was left open just long enough for Jolyne to slip through unnoticed. Or ensuring a certain inmate mysteriously found herself 'delayed' when she was supposed to report to Pucci.

Little things that tilted the game board ever so slightly in Jolyne's favor.

And Jolyne had no idea.

Until now.

Because now, she was staring right at her.

Jolyne tilted her head, an eyebrow arched. Challenge.

Isabella didn't blink.

She had played this game before.

Then, to Isabella's mild surprise, Jolyne stood up, crossed the courtyard, and stopped just short of stepping into her space.

The other prisoners kept their distance.

Some instinctively knew better than to interrupt.

Ermes, standing a few feet away, just watched, interested.

Jolyne crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her elbow. "Alright. I'll bite. You've been watching me all damn day. You wanna tell me why?"

Isabella smirked slightly. "You're not as subtle as you think you are, Cujoh."

Jolyne's eyes narrowed. "Oh, and you are? You act like you don't give a shit, but you're always lurking."

Isabella shrugged. "Maybe you're just worth watching."

Jolyne rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. And I'm guessing you just happen to end up in all the right places at all the right times, huh?"

"Coincidence," Isabella said smoothly.

Jolyne wasn't buying it.

She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You're playing some kind of game here. I don't know what it is, and I don't know what you want, but I don't like people messing with me."

For the first time, Isabella's smirk faded just a little.

She tilted her head, eyes sharp.

"Not everyone in here is what they seem," Isabella said. Calm. Cold. Cryptic.

Jolyne felt something prickle against her spine.

"Keep your guard up, Cujoh," Isabella murmured. "You're being hunted, whether you realize it or not."

The weight of it settled between them.

Jolyne's breath was steady, but her fists clenched.

She hated how much she believed her.

Ermes, sensing the tension, finally strolled over and draped an arm over Jolyne's shoulder.

"Alright, ladies, as much as I enjoy a good prison stare-down, we got work to do."

Jolyne's jaw tightened, but she let it go. For now.

Isabella didn't move. Didn't change her expression.

But as Jolyne turned to walk away, she swore she felt Isabella's gaze on her back.

And for some reason, it stuck with her.

Even later that night, as she lay awake in her cell, staring at the ceiling, the words lingered.

    Not everyone in here is what they seem.

    You're being hunted.

Jolyne hated that it made sense.

She was used to taking things head-on, fighting them straight-up.

But Isabella?

She was a different kind of fighter.

And for the first time since she got here, Jolyne wondered if she was already losing a battle she didn't even know she was in.