Gus awoke from his slumber, drifting clumsily into consciousness. The first sensation he felt was dampness, leading him to experimentally run his hand down his belly. His fur was caked in a thin layer of sweat. It occurred to him he maybe should have just stayed up and went to sleep when it was cool outside, but it was too late. With a low, grumbly moan, the cat got to his feet and started outfitting himself with comfortably light clothing.

In his groggy state, his mind started wandering. As much as he was convinced that there wasn't any to leave Brink alive, he, and others like him, held out for the chance to finally escape. Some days it was all he could think about. He was obsessive in comparison to others, constantly dreaming up scenarios of sitting on a porch in the gentle breeze, maybe even having Tempest with him.

He found himself drawn to her a lot. The calico couldn't really work out what his feelings for her were - he knew he loved her, or perhaps he thought he did. Truthfully he hadn't been close with anyone before her, scarcely even his own parents. Perhaps he was drawn to her because he could share his struggles with her, like a sister or a fellow soldier. Gus certainly admired her resolve. However he always suspected he might have had more romantic feelings for her, but ideas like that were always forcefully drowned out. He couldn't afford to think like that, at least not now.

The cat snapped to when he heard a knock on the door. Knowing who it was, he went to open it, grinning at the image of his pony buddy. "Morning, dapper. You drop by Drin's place?"

"Yeah, but he's still out cold." She stepped inside as he went back to sit on his bed. Having it in the living room was one of those quirks he had, that she still couldn't work out whether it was paranoia or personal preference. "What's the plan today?"

"I was gonna go to Empty Heart and see if Jack has anything for us. You in?"

She shrugged. "Sure-" the comment was broken into by a yawn. "I was looking forward to an interesting job. Maybe beat some people up."

Gus had to snort at that. "What, you didn't like last night? Nothing's more fun than helping old drunks get home."

"Don't even joke like that, I'm not accepting another job from him. The money was easy, but it wasn't worth it. I'd rather we actually have something to do."

"Yeah, yeah." He sighed and leaned back, his gaze staying on her eyes.

"Anyway, I'll be down there. I'm gonna grab a bite to eat first, so I'll see you there."

A quick goodbye preceded her departure, living Gus alone once again.

Maybe we ought to save up and move, he thought, his mind following the trail back to the pony land. Sure, the princesses' laws were dumb sometimes, and he'd certainly be coddled by the natives, but that sounds so much easier than his current situation. I bet that's something Temp could get behind. The more he considered it, the more he realized just how shit their environment was. It was home, sure, but his heart was in other places. Actually, it was everywhere else - anywhere but here. The Calico made plans to talk to her about it later.

Gus' attention was brought back down to Earth when his hunger caught up to him finally. His stomach rumbled, and he hummed, looking around for dry snacks. After settling on a banana and leaving his house, he finally started to make his way towards Empty Heart Tavern.

The streets were bustling with the late-afternoon crowds, mostly do-good workers finishing day chores or their various work shifts, but it was getting later and later. Brink's scum would be crawling from the holes they called home soon enough. Gus walked in the shadows of the awnings, thanking whoever it was that had the bright idea to put them up above the roads. His stride eventually led him to Empty Heart. The tavern was two stories high, bar on the ground floor and rooms above. The tavernwhores owned every room - they slept and ate and lived in this place. For everything it was worth, the owner of the place guaranteed them a rent-free stay as long as they kept business high.

The whores meant nothing to Gus, although he was on a first-name basis with several of them, he wanted no part in their wares. Not because he was a prude, mind you - but he was certain at least a few of them were peddling venereal diseases, and that sounded like a headache he didn't want. So he beelined it for the bar, taking a seat at one of the stools and putting his elbows on the bartop. The cat running the place padded over, smiling. "Evening Gus," he greets warmly. "You drinking today?"

"Not today, Jack. I'm looking for a decent job, you got anything?"

He seemed to think for a moment, stroking his chin. "There's a bounty out for uh… Hell, I don't remember his name. His poster's back there." Jack pointed across the dining area at a wanted poster depicting a black and white cat with long black hair. Under it was his description.

WANTED:

Aswad Jezoar,

black and white, orange eyes, black mane, has brands inspired by Brink

Last Known Location: Brink

1,000 bits

Bring information or his head to Deputy-Marshal Sacker

"Aswad Jezoar?" Tempest echoes, cigarette smoke riding on the breath of her comment. She was sitting down next to the calico on a bench outside the tavern. It was starting to get busy inside, loud enough they couldn't talk in peace. "I know that name. He was talked about on the other side of town, as far as he could possibly be from the marshal's' office."

"So you reckon he might be that way?" Gus asks, scratching his head idly.

She nodded. "I reckon. It's the only lead we've got. If the damn marshals cared enough to go down there themselves, they'd have him already."

Everyone knew the police didn't do their job around here. They got government funding, which didn't seem like a lot to the rich folk in the nation's capitol Panthera, but it was a fortune anywhere else. The marshals do just enough to keep their jobs, but apart from that they're beyond unhelpful. This is mind, Gus cracked a smile. "Maybe we can be the police."

"What, like be marshals? Are you drunk?"

"No, like be vigilantes!" He jumped to his feet and covered his lower face with his coat, speaking in an intense whisper. "Like heroes in the night, defending the innocent from the shadows!"

The mare took a puff from her cigarette. "God knows I ain't no hero," she answers, smiling at the chuckle she elicited from her friend. "Let's get going. If the dude's anything like us, he'll be up all night."

Night Tempest was cold. Everything about her environment - the floor, the walls, the air - it was all cold. Her clothes were gone, she could tell from the bare skin contact with the cement below her. Her eyes came open to the sound of gruff voices. Her body ached from sleeping on a hard surface, for who-knows-how-long. Slowly but surely, her gaze flittered over to the two caribou standing outside her cell. Beyond them was another room like hers, with a pegasus inside. She'd been plucked clean with some sort of brace around her wings to keep them down, and appeared to have a black collar on.

The place clearly wasn't kept clean - it smelled like piss and shit, and the walls were stained with what she could figure was blood or feces, or perhaps both. The smell was as bad as the way it looked. The floor was lined with a thin film of dirt and dry fluids. Some spots looked a little more greasy, as if they were newer than others. Overall it was a nightmare.

What the fuck? With a shudder, she closed her eyes and started to get up, feeling a dull pain flare up in her lower abdomen. Temp struggled to remember being hit there with that stun baton. Those final few moments were hazy and far away, like they had happened weeks ago. Surely it had only been a matter of hours.

"Mother of Dainn, she's finally awake," says the taller of the guards. The other just snorted and tapped the bars with his baton.

"You up? We've been waiting, bitch. Boss told us to let you sleep."

Temp finally mustered the strength to speak, though she didn't have enough in her to be pissed off at her captors. "How long was I out?"

"About a day. It doesn't matter." He went to unlock the cell, fumbling with the key for a second before finally opening it and stepping inside.

She had enough time to look up and squint, crawling back against the corner of the cell and mentally readying herself for a fight.

"Don't bother. You've had this coming for a while. You broke the record for having gone the longest without a collar, but we fixed that." They locked the doors behind them, the taller one reaching down to grab her by the throat and squeeze. In his grip, she felt something else - it felt an awful lot like the collar he mentioned, and that was about when the dread settled in. She inhaled sharply, straining somewhat and keeping her arms at her sides. Somewhere in her mind, Temp told herself fighting back right now would end in agony.

"I heard you also hurt one of my buddies. The local magistrate wanted you blanked, but we convinced him we could turn you into a happy little red collar. Eventually the punishment will become the very thing you wake up in the morning for. You all learn eventually that you're made for fucking, nothing else." He let her go, gripping her hair and tail, forcing her turn and face the wall before she could register that he was about to rape her.

It became obvious once her face was in the corner, and the panic and pain shot adrenaline into her system. A white hot feeling grew in her chest, and in her mind she told herself this one would have to be endured. She wanted to fight back and die with one last struggle, so when she found herself at the devil's feet she could say she never lost herself.

It didn't happen that way. Instead she felt a rock hard dick force its way into her marehood with an iron grip on her flank. The sudden force was painful enough for her to gasp, something the caribou clearly found amusing. One was laughing, all through the experience. The one that mounted her was bucking his hips soon enough, pushing and pulling his cock in her. She felt every inch of its muscle, the way it rocked her body and forced her pussy to try to squeeze him out. All it ended up doing was making the guy groan in pleasure, pumping her a little harder. The cycle repeated until she couldn't focus on anything for more than a second.

She wanted to scream and struggle, she wanted to fight back. Yet all the mare could do was sob weakly and suffer, unable to find any fire within herself. The mare thought maybe she could steel her nerves and power through it, and if nothing else keep her dignity intact until she came up with a plan to escape. Instead she just let him ride her, grunting and huffing. Her own breaths were becoming labored, her lungs deflating with shallow breaths as she panted. Anything that might have been pleasurable about the experience was undermined by the gravity of the situation. The caribou - rapists, savages, and here one was, and she couldn't fight back. Why am I not fighting back?

The caribou shuddered, dumping a load of his cum inside her. It felt warm and fulfilling, and the sensation disgusted her. As soon as he pulled out, he spoke. "Your turn. She's mostly a dead fuck, but if you go nice and hard she squeezes you nicely."

Night Tempest let out a weak cry, balling her hands into fists and letting her mind be free as the next guy rubbed her pussy. That was the first time she had felt anything even remotely good, and the surprise was enough to distract her from keeping her voice down. She moaned, and when he spread her legs for her a little more, she didn't resist. The head of his cock brushed her opening teasingly, pressing into her folds. "Moan a little more, slut," he said lowly, grinning. "You'd make a hell of red collar."

The other side of Brink wasn't too different from where Tempest and Gus stayed. Architecturally it was identical, but the inhabitants looked a little different. They carried weapons, they were dirtier. Some stood in groups across the street from one another. The area they were in was a little more open - buildings were built in clusters, with the occasional store or house on a street corner. Weeds and grass grew in ugly patches, swallowed by all the sand and dust everywhere else.

The people around there were wary and dangerous, carrying their blades or maybe a bow if they were feeling froggy. Gus and Tempest were no stranger to that, keeping weapons of their own. For the cat it was a shortsword, tucked into a scabbard on his thigh. The pony kept a dagger on her belt. Their respective arms were concealed by the coats, keeping sand and heat off them. Their travel across the city took roughly two hours, enough time for the sun to settle on the horizon. The heat was growing less and less intense, and soon the temperature drop would be giving their dusters another function.

It had been decided during their walk that the first place to go would be a gang hideout by the name of A Thousand Whispers. The name alluded to the size of the gang itself - which blatantly wasn't a thousand men strong, but the name was 'cool and intimidating' according to the dumb bastards that ran it. Night Tempest recalled Aswad being affiliated with them, though she forgot if it was a friendly or hostile relationship. Either way, the gang leaders were bound to have information. And with Taskere Drin having paying them, they had the funds to pay for any small lead they could get. With any luck, if they were feeling generous, they might give up his precise location.

That was Gus' sentiment, although the mare heavily doubted it. One thing was certain in any town in Abyssinia - everything had its price.

The hideout itself was little more than a long one-story house, with a handful of cats standing around outside smoking. Temp's habit flared up and she lit up a cigarette, though she suspected the other guys were smoking weed.

"Think they're selling?" Gus asks half-jokingly.

"Don't play," she answers, flicking ash off. "I have enough temptations already."

The cat laughed as they moved up the walkway to the front door. "You'd be a joy to smoke with, and maybe it'll curb your cigarette habit, eh?"

Temp snorted. "I tested that theory," she admits. "It makes it worse."

As they approached, one of the stoner cats looked over. "Y'all looking for the boss?" The pair nodded. "Cool." The joint was passed to him and he lost interest immediately.

"He's stoned out of his mind," Gus mumbles with a smile. They knocked, and a fairly large Purrsian lynx opened the door. Gus looked up at him, cocking a brow. "Hey big guy, can we ask Diablo some questions?" Diablo wasn't the boss' God-given name, he just seemed to think it made him sound badass.

"You cops?" the big cat asked.

"I wish."

He grunted and stepped aside, letting the two inside. The interior of the house was decorated by someone with a lot of money, clearly. Nice furniture, paintings, vases and candles. The actual inhabitants were a mess - sitting around smoking pot or cigars, some with women in their laps. "Last door on the left," the cat grumbles. The last door on the left was at the end of a hallway, which was mercifully vacant.

Tempest and Gus navigated through the maze of potheads, crossing over one who'd stoned himself into a vegetative state and made their way down the hallway. Again, they knocked, and a pleasantly chipper voice answered. "Come in!"

They entered, absorbing the features of the room immediately. It was just as nice as the rest of the house, with far less partying going on. There was an orange tabby sitting on his bed, with a sleeping woman next to him mostly hidden under the covers. The tabby's eyes were glazed, but he was upright and attentive for the most part. "What do you want?" he asks a little slowly, his lips never fully closing.

Night Tempest was the first to pipe up. "We're looking for Aswad Jeh… What was his name?" she asks Gus, turning her attention to him.

"Aswad Jezoar," Gus finishes helpfully, fighting a smirk. "He's got a bounty and we're hurting for money."

"Asswad?" the tabby guesses incorrectly. When the bounty hunters snorted and started chuckling, he joined in, before realizing what they'd said. "Oh, Aswad Jezoar. You mean Jessie? Yeah, I don't know… Y'all got money?"

"Twenty bits sound fair?"

"Shit," the tabby says through a giggle. "That's more than he's ever gave around here. Doesn't help, doesn't do anything for the Whispers, he just smokes all of our weed. The bastard's coming by in two days, he said. Another twenty bits and I'll let you do your business with him on my lawn."

Gus and Temp looked at one another and shrugged, then handed him twenty bits a piece, making up for the total price. "Great," she chirps. "We'll be by in a couple days then."

Diablo waved and watched the two leave, then started giggling. He opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, which rattled with the sound of hundreds of coins sliding over one another. He turned the cloth baggy upside down and shook the forty bits into the drawer, grinning with glee. "That's gonna be fun to watch."