[b]Hoover, North-Western Equestria[/b]

The stink of the brahmin pit was no less stifled by the cold heavy air that punched deep into the fibers of the very city's being. Or perhaps city was hardly an apt term to use. A ruin was more accurate. One great urban ruin pocked with a dozen small settlements throughout. All of them in some way claimed the name of Vahoover in some way. It was just a way of finding which was which to find someone or something. It was just what happens in the gray stormy overcast weather.

“He doesn't look like much.” a staunch stuffy unicorn commented. His blue coat glistened with the heavy drizzle that fell over the city at a near constant. His pin-stripped suit turning soggy on his shoulders. Heaps of once-finely trimmed mane fell about his broad snarled face as he eyed the stallion passed out in the middle of a feed. The two headed cows in the pen gently ate around the dozing body of the mottled brown stallion with a bottle in one hoof.

“Appearances can be deceiving.” hissed the other. Though he was willing to give the figure the benefit of the doubt there, he certainly was far from impressed. His deep fluorescent green coat was untouched by the heavy drizzle as caught in his light-blue magic he held a heavy umbrella over his head. His oily black suit clean and pressed, despite having crossed over the whole of the wasteland.

“Well that's fine and all, but we could have passed the package along to the griffon at the tavern.” snarled the blue unicorn. He flared his nostrils as he gave a hearty sneeze through the cold rain, “And for fucks sakes I feel like I'm coming down with a cold in this weather!” he protested loudly, “Let's just go back to the hotel suite and find another.”

“If we gave the package to the griffon then she would have no doubt passed it to someone else for easy caps. She had the air of a dash addict around her. We can't trust those types.”

“And a booze hound?”

“Generally more reliable between paychecks.” commented the green one, “And besides, a lot of ponies drink these days, even with the sun in the air. They work well enough. Dash and stampede doesn't eat at them like booze.”

“For Celestia's-fucking-sake then, let's at least find somewhere to get out of this damnable weather. I would have much rather stayed back at Manehatten in any fucking case.

“I shit you not, I swear the more we stay out in the rain looking for runners – true or not – the more I feel the paycheck isn't worth the congestion.”

“If you stop your moaning then maybe I'll find something to knock your sinuses out.” the green one promised, shooting him a wry impatient expression.

“Oh yes sure, because two-hundred year old cold medicine will do anything!” the blue unicorn groaned sarcastically. He sneered at the sheepishly grazing bovine with an expression of utter contempt.

“It will if you apply the right persuasion.” smiled the green unicorn, turning.

“Fuck, that.” the blue one sneered, “I've seen what you've been able to do. Last thing I'd like to drink down is some swill you somehow irradiated.”

“The pleasures of being a doctor.” the green one chuckled. He turned to face his companion. What smile he had washed off as he caught his colleague following him. “Did I say you could come with me?” he said, his tongue was sharp and biting.

“I-” the blue one stammered weakly. He backed off a few paces, “N-no?”

“Exactly, I did not.” the green unicorn shot. His anger betrayed a thick, heavy tone. “I'm going back to the suite. I want you to sober this gentlestallion up. As I've heard, his abilities as a courier is admirable in this part of the old country. I want him coherent and in our room in an hour. Are we clear?”

“Yes sir.” bowed the blue one.

“Fine thinking.” his superior nodded, “Now from the looks of him it looks like he had a hard night of drinking. When you get him up make sure to find him some rad hog bacon and straight uncut brahmin milk. Plenty of water. I don't know how wholesome he might find it, but it'll keep his head from hurting.”

He gave a proud smirk, and turned away, holding the umbrella ever higher as he trotted along the cracked street. Stepping around puddles that lay open to the sky above and filled with cool murky water. Rivulets of discolored water trickled from the stock pens that surrounded the square, built over the ruins where buildings used to be.

As he drew out of hearing range the blue one turned to the drunken pony asleep in the animal pen. “Fucking excellent, forced to babysit a drunk.” he moaned, “Shit better be worth it.”

He looked over to the penned animals. He snarled angrily at them. “Right, I doubt you cows have any clue how to get him up.”

“Nope.” one said quietly from the far back.

****

Rusted's heart kicked hard into his chest as the sensation of being drowned washed over his body. Throwing himself up off the ground with a start he opened his eyes to a bucket's worth of warm water being thrown over his face. Caught instinctivly in a gasp for breath it took in a mouth full of the waste water, lodging his throat closed so as not to drown.

Reflex getting the better of him he soon discovered too his painful horror that he needed to breath. His chest heaved emptily against the mouth full of liquid and he threw himself to the side, rolling in the thick black muck of wherever he was and coughing out the bitter, putrid water that found itself in his mouth. Heaving, he spat out the water as his heart raced in his chest and his head was a firestorm of agonizing pain. It felt as though his head was cleft in two by an axe. All the while his chest burned from the shock and his shoulder ached.

Sprawled in the mud he groaned. Shutting his eyes against the piercing reflection of light in the piss-yellow puddles in the hoof tilled muddy ground. The smell and sight of it turned his stomach over, and to his duress he quickly found the summation of his previous night bubbling up from the depth of his stomach. Splitting hangover combined with the sickening stench of manure and he retched up the contents of his stomach, emptying out into the muck a viscous clear slime of several possible alcohol mixes. It reeked as such too.

“They say drinking too much like this will kill you.” a voice chimed mockingly behind him. It was a painful voice. High pitched and shrill. Rusted Bit would have rather dug razors into his ears than listen to whoever talk. It also made him sick again.

Letting out a burning wet burp he took deep breaths as he sat slouched over the muck. He didn't want to know how he got there. And he kept his eyes sealed shut. If he couldn't see where the pain was from, maybe it would stop hurting.

“What?” he croaked. His voice dry and strained. His breathing was deep and his head spun like a devil.

“You heard right,” the voice said again, “Drinking too much'll kill ya. Dont'cha know?”

Rusted Bit groaned and rubbed his temples. His nostrils were full of all sorts of sickening smells, and his mouth tasted like shit. “Do you want a job?” the same voice said again.

“Fuck would I want with work?” Rusted Bits protested angrily, staggering to his hooves. His entire world felt heavy.

“Because you'll get paid and I won't throw another bucket of piss on you.” the voice said again, “Now you going to crawl out of there, or will I need to douse you with some more?”

Anger boiled up inside him as he heard those words. But he felt too sick to do anything about it. He tried moving fast, squinting against the needle-like pain that bore in his eyes and wrecked havoc on his hungover head. He thought of charging over the gate and tackling whoever it was. But the thought of moving too fast just made him feel even dizzier.

Staggering to the gate he collapsed against the posts. “What's the job?” he asked bitterly.

“I'm not inclined to discuss it here.” the voice said again. Clearly stallion. To Rusted, he still looked blurry and bright, but he looked green. Wore a nice suit. Too nice, perhaps.

“But I can promise you it's not shoveling Brahmin shit.” the mysterious stallion said, nodding behind Rusted. He turned around, finding the familiar if hazy figures of well over several dozen Brahmin watching them.

What did he do last night?

“I'll also treat you to breakfast.” the stranger invited.

“Charity...” Rusted scoffed, “Fucking great. So how are you going to kill me then? A knife to the back, or will you be upfront about it as I eat some preserved carrots and shoot me in the face?”

“From the looks of you, both would be merciful. But I have to say it's neither.”

“Could we talk about it here? I'll move out as soon as I sleep off this hangover...” Rusted Bits said hopefully.

“I'm afraid that's not an option.” his perspective employer said, “Now come on, before you catch phenomena in this rain.”