Waterstrider

5th District, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fourthmonth, 1634 PTS

“You want me to do what?” asked Yun, surprised.

She had received a call on her personal device from an unknown number, and the call had automatically answered after she tried to refuse it. Ultimately, she had decided to listen to what the caller had to say. If they could control her terminal, they probably had other methods of forcing her attention.

“I need you to kill a man who’s being questioned by the Heirs. As soon as possible.”

Yun narrowed her eyes.

“I understand, and I hear what you’re saying, but I am not just going to kill a man for a client who I have zero understanding of. How would I know you don’t intend to make me a scapegoat of some sort?”

She was lounging in her apartment, feet up on a coffee table. She had been playing a poor quality locally produced martial arts film. There were many such films, and to no surprise, this one, like most of them, featured a protagonist who was a member of the Hadal Clan. She liked idly playing garbage films like that in the background while studying. After the transaction with the Riverfiend, she found herself with more than enough quality study material.

This caller was certainly strange, though, so she had set her terminal down and paused the film to pay more attention to it. The woman on the other end spoke as if the two of them knew one another. The only people she could think of who might know her here were her landlord, the proprietor of her favorite cafe, and Mister Cyrus, her sole customer in the station so far.

This was certainly none of their voices, however, and the first two did not even know about her profession, anyway. She paused, realizing something. In their meetings, the Riverfiend had at times mentioned a partner who he worked with. Could this woman be that partner? This hypothesis was immediately confirmed by her reply.

“I’m the one who initially approached you on Cyrus’ behalf. We can give you money or trade another favor, whatever you need. But this needs to be done immediately.”

The woman on the line sounded stressed, as if the situation was truly desperate and she was at her wit’s end.

“Why can’t Mister Cyrus do it? He’s quite strong,” asked Yun, curiously.

“He’s… busy with something, and isn’t able to do it right now.”

Yun hummed for a moment in consideration. Cyrus had been a good employer, and some additional funds certainly wouldn’t be bad for her. Before she agreed, however, she would need to clarify some details.

“Are there any enforcers at the location?” asked Yun.

“At the moment there’s only one squad. There might be another, soon, but there should be no enforcers since they’re at the spacedock at the moment.”

Yun casually rubbed her cerebral dantian as she considered the matter.

“How much are you offering?”

“Thirty thousand serite if you leave right now.”

Without even thinking about it, Yun agreed.

“Deal.”

She stood up, sliding her clothes off to change into more suitable clothing for combat.

“I’ll have to assault them, right?” she asked. “Might be difficult to infiltrate if there’s a rush. I doubt the Heirs are as lax as that idiot from last time. Where do I need to go?”

“Probably, unless you can think of a better idea. They’re at Flavors of Celah Grill, right outside dock 3. They’re in a back room at the moment, though I’m unable to tell what’s happening inside of it.”

It struck Yun that this woman had oddly accurate information. Was she in that restaurant personally, keeping an eye on who entered? She frowned as she continued preparing to leave. That couldn’t be it. Cyrus’ partner would have to be a Seiyal, and the woman’s voice contained a slight hint of a dialect from the Crucible, just like Cyrus had. And a Seiyal could not stake out a Celan restaurant from within. It would be far too suspicious for someone who couldn’t even digest the food to loiter inside of a restaurant for that long. A Celan informant, then?

Yun nodded, certain that she had figured it out. She finished sliding her way out of her loungewear, wandering half naked towards her closet to grab her martial robes.

They were generic, the sort of thing one could find anywhere on the station. A poisoner bore no uniform of their own unless they were part of a sect. In most cases, blending in with those around them was their core goal.

After a moment’s thought, Yun decided to grab a pair of daggers, just in case. It was always best to be prepared for a worst case scenario, particularly when she lacked proper planning time like she did now. As she finished clothing herself and moved to the cabinet in which she stored her poison, Yun looked up, as if she could possibly see the person she was talking to. It was a habit of hers, born from a childhood without such devices as terminals.

“Who’s the target? What do they look like?” she asked. It felt odd to look up at empty air as she spoke, for the terminal was still sitting on the couch, out of view from her present location. She opened the cabinet to inspect her vials and decide which one to use.

“He’s a Merris, skinny, short hair. Large bags under his eyes, and he should be wearing dark robes that look like that of a scholar or a priest,” said the voice.

Yun hummed in response as she finally picked two vials, sliding them into a carefully crafted concealed pocket on the inside of the robe.

Finally finished she looked around the room, trying to remember if there was anything she had forgotten. With everything accounted for, she passed by the couch to grab the terminal before opening the door to enter into the damp alley air. She wrinkled her nose at the smell that immediately confronted her. Inside of her apartment various air filters, scented pouches, and candles were used to manage it, but out in the open the air was filled with the thick scent of Staiven emissions.

If there was anything she disliked about living here, it would certainly be that.

“I’ve already chartered an aero for you, just head to the skydock on top of this stack.”

Yun nodded, quickly making her way to the nearest stairwell. Evening in this neighborhood of the fifth district was quite active.

Because it was so racially diverse, the fifth district had almost developed its own micro-culture. Teens and young adults of the various races walked around in integrated groups far more often than would be seen in most other districts, having fun as they walked the streets, heading towards whatever events or hobbies they had interest in. Yun wouldn’t know the details, and nor did she care. The reason why she liked this district so much was that the bustle, chaos, and diversity made it the perfect place to hide for an unorthodox practitioner. Particularly because it had the largest population of Seiyal of any district outside the territory of the Hadal Clan.

Yun flew up several flights of stairs, thankful for the physical conditioning she had by nature as a meridian establishment practitioner. As there were no elevators or other assisted methods of ascending or descending layers of stacks, the inhabitants of the station generally had to have some level of physical fitness just to move around the city. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like for certain types of cripples. Thankfully, it was not an issue she personally had to worry about.

As she arrived at the skydock, Yun immediately saw the waiting aero, just as Cyrus’ unnamed partner had claimed there would be. After a short exchange of words with its Telaretian pilot, she climbed in as the vehicle lifted off from the platform.

While in transit, Yun examined a schematic of the target building’s interior that had simply appeared on her terminal when she opened in back up. She found both the existence of the schematic and the way it had appeared to be very suspicious. Building schematics were kept securely in the government’s private database. Had this mysterious woman really placed a mole into the Pantheonic Government?

Alternatively, to infiltrate the database… given how her own terminal had been controlled, the idea did not seem too outlandish. However… could this really be accomplished using technology grasped by her own people? She didn’t think so. Yun was beginning to get the impression that either this woman was not actually with Mister Cyrus, or the sect that he was forming was part of something far more dangerous than just starting up an unorthodox presence on the station.

Still, she had already agreed to the commission, and from what she could tell it would be very feasible. This could also be used as a showcase of her abilities for prospective clients in the future as she tried to slowly expand her network. She hadn’t yet advertised her services, but she had planned to begin doing so in the coming weeks anyways.

The aero set down at one of the many busy skydocks that surrounded the spacedock entrances. Yun quickly hopped out, thanking the pilot who had apparently already been paid. She wondered if that money would be coming out of her paycheck.

The spacedock area was, as always, bustling with motion. Passersby were of all races. Yun even caught glimpses of what were rare figures in this part of the galaxy such as Escalos or Bloodspawn. She forced her way through the crowd, taking advantage of her enhanced strength and dexterity to quickly make her way away from the crowded dock and towards the nearest stairwell. According to a map she had checked while in transit, the Flavors of Celah Grill was located on the lower end of the stack.

As she stepped off of the stairs one level above the location, Yun noted to herself just how useful a full schematic could be in a place like Tseludia Station, where all constructions were fully integrated into the structure. She made her way to an alleyway, searching for a vent that should be located near the ground.

As she did so, she smiled, her hands reaching into her robes and emerging with a vial of poison. She inspected it to ensure it was the right one before quickly downing it in one gulp. Her miasma whirled within her channels, bolstering her body from the poison’s effects and merging with it.

She finally found the vent and idly she stretched her hand into it, releasing a gaseous cloud of miasma slowly inside.

An idle thought crossed her mind. The commissioner had not told her how she was supposed to handle the gangsters and innocents who were also inside of the building. In that case, she decided that she would continue to make that choice by herself.

Escalos: [One of the most blessed races of Telles, the Escalos are the favored children of the Goddess Relya, who the Escalos refer to as Sunweaver. She is said to be among the eldest and most powerful ascendants in existence, and is able to pressure the great empires of Osine, as well as lesser forces such as the Pantheon. As such, Escalos have special privileges in most regions of the galaxy, due to Relya's great influence. They are mole-like arthropodal beings covered in scutes that serve as protective armor to a certain extent. The Escalos claim to be the oldest still existing race in the galaxy and have expanded extensively, however as a species they have little to no technological knowledge of their own as their cultural heritage causes most of them to focus their attentions on peaceful lives with technologically simple hobbies such as physical or performance arts. They generally rely on ships, stations, and planets belonging to other races in which to live and travel. In Pantheonic Territory, Escalos are usually left to police their own, with any laws broken ignored unless they were to commit some of the greatest crimes such as blaspheming the gods or killing a politician or corporate leader.]