Manehattan is known for many things. Its skyline, for one, has always been a famous reminder of the ingenuity of the earth ponies and unicorns who built the massive skyscrapers that rise above even the tallest trees. Its citizens, known for their callousness and pragmatism, also give the great city its reputation as an unforgiving jungle of concrete and steel.
There is, of course, exceptions. As with any old city, the skyscrapers will eventually give way to small corner stores and back alleys, places where the destitute and disreputable gather. Dark, gloomy corners of downtown metropolis where not even the bravest of guard dare tread.
It was in one such alley where something curious happened. A small, rundown business, no more than a tiny storefront, was bought out for a substantial amount of bits. The previous owner was ecstatic, and knew not to ask questions. It was with this purchase that the fate of the underground element of Manehattan was changed forever.
And so it was that what was once an unknown little shop in a back alley became so famous that everyone, from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows knew about, though very few would ever admit to it, and fewer still would admit to utilizing their one and only service.
Outside this little shop was a sign, hanging for anyone who dared enter the alley to see:
Dirty Deeds
Done Dirt Cheap
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The chocolate brown unicorn stallion paced back and forth in his office, occasionally checking the gold watch strapped to his foreleg. Impatiently tapping his hoof, he sighed before resuming his nervous pacing. This went on for several long minutes before there came a knock at his door. The stallion jolted to a stop and did a quick check of his suit. Satisfied at his appearance, he plastered his most winning smile on his face and opened the door.
"Welcome, welcome!" He said
