She sat down on her chair, looking around at the dull, grey surfaces that comprised her prison cell of menial labor. Her desk was a mere four steel legs and table top affair, decorated with two pictures of the Wonderbolts - one signed by Captain Spitfire - and a monolith of papers that she might have neglected to do over the past week. Uuugh... where's Paper Tape when you need him? He's supposed to handle all this for the week... she wondered as her head leaned on her hoof, staring out the open doorway.