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Original Description:
Original Description:
The punishing rain pelted against the door, not that that was something different in this benighted city. No, here it seemed that the deluge never ended, constantly leaving the cobbled streets a filthy, slick, dangerously slippery mess.
An almost impenetrable smell of cloying industrial smoke permeated almost everything outside the bar, the “scent of progress,” the local barons of industry had called it. But no, it was just another lie told by the wealthy few who held Manehattan’s metaphorical balls in a death-grip.
Inside the once lavishly appointed speakeasy, it wasn’t much better. A pall of cigarette smoke hung a couple of feet from the ceiling, leaving the once white corbelling a sickly yellow hue. And below that, the stench of hard liquor and unwashed bodies mingled in such a way as if to make you wish you’d stayed at home.
Yet, you weren’t here to drink your life away and end up unconscious and dumped in the alley like the other trash.
No, you had trudged through the sodden streets specifically to meet with the infamous mare sitting elegantly on the somewhat grubby barstool in front of you, her own lit cigarette adding yet more to the foggy ceiling. She was looking at you from the moment you walked in, sizing you up the way that a predator eyes its prey.
Her once pristine jacket and hat were obviously very well made, and heavily enchanted, but despite that, the outfit seemed to be worn and shabby. Additionally, the getup was a lot darker than it should have been- almost as if it was irrevocably stained because she’d spent the best part of the last ten years creeping around the city in the pouring, dirty rain, looking for missing ponies.
Imagine that…
Heck, you thought, if this city hadn’t gone to shit and effectively destroyed almost every honest pony living here, then perhaps she’d be considered beautiful, but here in this place, she just looked ever so tired, and done with everything- yet, despite this, the mare was utterly alert.
A fresh glass of cheap-looking whiskey sat next to her upon the bar, a few cubes of ice within to help ease the experience of drinking that evil concoction- like so many other ponies, this was her medicine to help her cope with the reality of working this two-bit town, no doubt.
Her left forehoof rested upon a deep looking pocket, no doubt hovering over the unseen grip of her concealed sidearm, obviously being prepared for trouble- and you knew full well that if you weren’t armed in Manehattan, then you’d probably end up dead. Your own loaded and heavy revolver was holstered inside your own loose raincoat, and though you were familiar and well trained with the weapon, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to use it.
Frazzle’s eyes never left you as you began to approach her, that hoof still hovering over her pistol. The barkeep slipped into a backroom behind the bar, leaving you and Frazzle alone at the bar, the other clientele quickly taking note of the building tension in the air and simply leaving their drinks and exiting the building without a word.
As for you, you had a few dossiers of paperwork to hoof over- information that you had managed to duplicate and sneak out of the Canterlot archives, with nopony any the wiser. You had already been paid in full for your assistance, as was the case every other time you had worked for Frazzle.
But this… This was the first time you had actually seen her- normally one of her other associates would pick up the dossiers, and that would be the end of that, until the next job.
Something felt… Off…
To be Continued? Y/N?
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Hey everyone,
I got inspired again,so this happened. I wasn’t intending for this to be today’s upload, but it’ll do for now. Again, this is NON-CANON to my AU- it’s just a fun writing and base editing exercise.
Oh, I’ve also made a straight-up grayscale version of this exact image for a more accurate “film noir” experience. Would you like me to upload that one?
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