//------------------------------//
// Chapter 8: "back in the saddle" 
// Story: memoirs of a private detective: volume 1 
// by Inkwell_the_writer_horse 
//------------------------------//

It felt good, having an actual lead was new to me, and it was a welcome change. In the past I'd always rough up the bartender at the seediest place in town until he gave me whatever information he had that was relative to the case, but he was gone now, I was truly alone.

It was an inconspicuous little place, by the waterfront, a place you'd expect middle aged, upper class folks to go, not guns for hire and dope pushers.

As I opened the large, wooden double doors I was immediately hit with an aroma of stale booze and ciggerate smoke. The place was filthy, a den of killers and thieves, I fit right in. I walked up to the bar and ordered a whiskey, I was content with sitting in silence and slowly formulating a plan, but the bartender started a conversation.

"I aint seen you around before, what brings you here?"

He was suspicious, he should have been. I slid the casino chip over to him and and grunted.

"Where's the boss?"

He gestured for me to follow him, I did just that. As the undesirables that inhabited this place began to stare I began to think,
I had just walked into the great unknown, no plan, no backup, just a bad temper and an empty hoof gun. 

I was brought to a snowy roof top, the neon lights of the city stretching into the distance. I was left alone on the roof, the bartender slipping away, unnoticed. A frail, old stallion was leaning over the side of the building. Without turning, he spoke to me.

"You're the kid who dealt with our problem?"

I tried to disguise my voice with a higher pitch.

"Yea."

He gave out a cuckle.

"Good. You've outlived your usefulness, get outta here."

As I turned I was met with three large stallions with bats and pipes, and behind them, smoking a ciggerate, the white stallion from the other night, he gave me a knowing smile, and a goodbye wave. They beat me until I coughed blood, popping stiches I'd gained from my fall. After thirty minutes of beatings, I passed out, the eternal blackness, a welcome escape from my torment.