Waterstrider

Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS

Like in most cities, the boundaries between districts and neighborhoods on Tseludia were tenuous. Legally speaking, of course, one stacked marked the edge of district three, while the next entered into district six. Culturally, however, there was a significant amount of overlap. The inhabitants of the stacks nearest the border might live in one district, but work in the other, and as the races who largely inhabited the two districts were both humanoid, there were many similarities between them. Here, Jobu, Seiyal, Korlove, and Tovus all lived, though not in harmony. No, harmony had long begun to fall apart.

It had started with a drunken brawl. Many of the bars in the area catered to individuals from both worlds. Arguments and fights were a given for bars that catered to Seiyal, even those who were mortal or mere foundation refinement martial artists. The Riverfiend had been the cause, originally. Before long, it had no relation to him at all.

To some of the Seiyal, he was a hero. An exemplary figure uplifting the masses and performing heroic deeds. To others, he was a madman, a bomb waiting to explode. To the Celans, he was a thief and a murderer. It was no surprise that an argument occurred at a bar near the border, and no surprise that drunkards could escalate such a dispute into a brawl. What was once a dispute over the morality of a powerful figure turned to slurs and insults, and the slumbering seeds of resentment took root once more in people’s hearts. Matters only continued to worsen from there. It was easy for the disenfranchised to hate one another, and this part of the third and sixth districts were close to slums. Decades ago, there had been a deep hatred between the Canvasian and Celan refugees on the station, as they found themselves located nearby one another and in many cases, competing for similar opportunities to escape poverty. This had largely ended after the previous gang war, decades before, which ended in both sides being too tired of conflict to care anymore. But deep down, those tensions, that resentment, was still there. And the Hadal Clan and Heirs of Ottrien continued to compete with one another.

Takott slunk her way down the street, carefully avoiding bumping into anyone. She felt that the streets were a warren of snakes recently, and she felt uneasy whenever she left her home. A Tovus sliding their way past cursed her for being in their way, even though she had tried to give him a greater berth. It was not her fault that Korlove took up more space on the ground than most races did due to their large number of legs.

She skittered her way through the crowd, staying careful. When she had first moved to an apartment within Canvas Town, she had simply thought that the rent was very affordable. It was close enough to the edge of Little Celah that she did not have to go out of her way to reach the restaurant where she worked as a server. Until recently, she had never once felt in danger during her commute.

Until recently, she had not felt uncomfortable to be surrounded by the aliens, even the Tovus and the occasional Telaretian. One of her Jobu coworkers had been taken to the prison moon just the other day for participating in a fight in a bar that had resulted in a casualty, and now they were understaffed, and she had to pick up more shifts.

Her roommate had left their apartment, choosing to move back in with her parents across the district because she had felt unsafe. Takott had to admit that she herself felt unsafe as well, every time she received a downturned gaze or was called a spider by the harsh words of a passerby. But Takott had nowhere to go. She was an orphan and single, and would find herself homeless if she decided not to return home, or not to return to her job. She was living paycheck to paycheck, her meager savings not yet enough to move up in life as she was hoping to.

As Takott turned down into the alley where her apartment’s entrance lay, she was shocked to hear a scream from deeper inside. She paused in surprise to see a group of Seiyal and Tovus snarling and cursing as they pummeled a pair of Korlove, an elderly couple who were Takott’s neighbors. She lifted one of her limbs to her mouth, frozen in terror. Behind her, the passersby continued to walk, as if unaware of what was happening. Of course, there was no chance that they didn’t see, didn’t know. She felt as if she was trapped in a cage of Canvasian make, awaiting her own demise.

Moments later, she regained control of her body, and turned to run away. She could maybe try to sleep on a friend’s couch for the night, it would be fine. She tried to dash away, but in her terror, her muscles failed to fire properly, and she tripped over one of her own legs. She heard a mocking laugh, and then one of the Seiyal before her said something in their language before approaching her. She tried to dive towards the crowd that was so close by, but the Seiyal was too fast, moving just slightly past seemed possible. Takott’s guts fell through her chest. A martial artist. She screamed in terror as she felt a hand on one of her legs. It was the most fearful moment of her life, as well as one of the last. Takott’s sole solace was that she passed out from only the second blow.

Canvas Town, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS

Whai sighed as he looked down the row of corpses.

“I’d say it was a mix of Tovus and some humanoids that did this. Seiyal, most likely.”

“Usually is,” agreed his partner.

They were standing in an alley in one of the lower portions of the stack, faced with a row of contorted, gray bodies. Three Korlove had been bludgeoned to death with physical force, and the total lack of witnesses to the scene of the crime had resulted in Aechs and Whai being called to investigate. Not that the two of them really believed that. This had occurred during daylight, near a busy street. So many had passed by, and must have seen or heard glimpses of what occurred, but all of them either did not care, or were too scared to say anything. The scene of the grime, and the current state of the victims might have been a disgusting sight, but the two of them had been on the job for quite a long time, and had long grown used to the sight of corpses.

“Why is it,” Whai asked, “That recently, it’s almost always the Canvasians and the Celans?”

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not, but I don’t believe the Hadal Clan and the Heirs were behind this, not this time.”

Aechs gave his partner a curious expression.

“Why do you think that?”

Whai laughed.

“Because nobody’s offered to bribe us yet.”

Aechs laughed at that, chuffing out a sackful of air.

“I suppose you’re right. Probably just another hate crime, then. We’ll actually have to find the culprit this time.”

“When can we find another payoff like the one last week?” Whai asked.

Aecha kneeled next to one of the bodies, using a scanner to collect data.

“Greater strength than most races was used. I expect it would have to be a martial artist or a Jobu, knowing this area.”

Whai was examining another of the corpses, and quickly chimed in with his own findings.

“This slime is definitely from a Tovus. We could probably easily find them if we were to start testing locals. I’m not looking forward to it,” he sighed.

“I suppose you did have a point,” muttered Aechs.

Whai turned his head, curious to see what his partner was talking about.

“About what?” he asked.

“About the Celans and the Canvasians. I was talking to Treklam earlier, and she said that violence between the two has gone up by over three times in the past week.”

“It’s to be expected from the Seiyal,” said Whai. “Their entire culture is based on physical force. The Hadal Clan itself is controlled by the strongest of them.”

“I suppose,” agreed Aechs. “I wouldn’t say the Celans generally act that way, though.”

“You really say that after what occurred last week?” asked Whai.

Aechs silently assented, continuing to inspect the bodies. He wondered whether this matter would wind down and end here, or if the bodies would continue to pile up.

“Perhaps we will soon see a gang war once more,” he muttered.

Whai clapped him on the shoulder.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about that, if so. Even if they are violent, I doubt either the Hadal Clan or the Heirs wish for that to happen unless they’re forced into it. And even if they do, it’ll be stopped before it can escalate too much, just like last time.”

Aechs sighed.

“Let’s just find this murderer and get out of here.”

He didn’t feel like he wanted to remain in this area for too long. It was as if there was an aura of dread, like a lit powder keg waiting to blow.

Hate Crimes on Tseludia: [For a station as diverse as Tseludia, interactions between individuals of various races can be fraught at times, in particular due to the preferential treatment given to certain races by the Pantheonic Government and the underworld organizations. Disputes between underworld forces have long caused tensions between certain groups, such as the longstanding resentment held by the Canvasians and the Celans for one another. Similarly, many resent the preferential treatment held by the Staiven, and to a lesse extent the Escalos, who have something of an issue with the Telaretians themselves. Such tensions spiraled into a large gang war between underworld organizations decades ago. Although the gangs are largely held back by the underworld forces which control them, individual perpetuators of hate crimes continue to pop up every so often, particularly in the slums. Many have called for institutional reform in order to prevent such violence, but the Pantheonic Government's official stance is that arresting and deporting criminals to the prison moon is the most effective way to curb crime.]