The murders were all that anyone seemed to be able to talk about. Citan had heard of the newest from no less than three separate patients today, and a fourth time from the grocer, and with each retelling the story was either embellished or outright changed depending on how much the individual knew. So far the victims had been set on fire, dismembered, skinned, found half-frozen in melting ice, and, according to one particularly vociferous child, eaten. The amount of conflicting information didn't surprise him; the average person loves to gossip, even (especially) about something as frightening and thrillingly taboo as murder, and whatever details are lacking will be filled in by imagination and wild conjecture. There was only one common thread in all the versions he'd heard--this killer, whom they'd started to refer to as "the Judge," was targeting the rotten underbelly of the city. Some of the citizens seemed to think that it was a good thing, vigilante justice in action, and good riddance to bad rubbish. Others were worried.
Citan was...concerned. He knew all too well that not one of us could easily translate into undesirable, and he had little in the way of a reputation beyond "that doctor who's not from around here." Some prudence wouldn't be uncalled for, given the circumstances.
He knew the owner of a little smithery--the man had terrible allergies and came by every fortnight or so to stock up on decongestants. He was happy to offer a discount on his weapons in exchange for the promise of a week's supply, although he was quite startled that gentle Doctor Uzuki wanted a sword. He watched nervously as Citan left the shop, his arms laden with bags of groceries and a new katana at his belt.
"You going to be okay, doc? Don't drop it on your foot or anything."
Citan smiled brightly at him, already starting to juggle the bags so that he could get at the doorknob. "I will be fine! Do not worry--ah, thank you--" he added as the blacksmith opened it for him. He stepped outside--
And a young Bangaa smacked into him, shouldered past, and kept on running to who knows where as one of the bags flew from his grasp. He lunged after it, but gravity was slightly faster than he was. It hit the ground with a crack and he winced, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his now-free hand.
"Well, there go the eggs and the vegetables," he sighed to nobody in particular, staring at what would have been tomorrow's breakfast as it spilled messily out onto the street.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2010-03-03 05:10 am (UTC)Citan was...concerned. He knew all too well that not one of us could easily translate into undesirable, and he had little in the way of a reputation beyond "that doctor who's not from around here." Some prudence wouldn't be uncalled for, given the circumstances.
He knew the owner of a little smithery--the man had terrible allergies and came by every fortnight or so to stock up on decongestants. He was happy to offer a discount on his weapons in exchange for the promise of a week's supply, although he was quite startled that gentle Doctor Uzuki wanted a sword. He watched nervously as Citan left the shop, his arms laden with bags of groceries and a new katana at his belt.
"You going to be okay, doc? Don't drop it on your foot or anything."
Citan smiled brightly at him, already starting to juggle the bags so that he could get at the doorknob. "I will be fine! Do not worry--ah, thank you--" he added as the blacksmith opened it for him. He stepped outside--
And a young Bangaa smacked into him, shouldered past, and kept on running to who knows where as one of the bags flew from his grasp. He lunged after it, but gravity was slightly faster than he was. It hit the ground with a crack and he winced, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his now-free hand.
"Well, there go the eggs and the vegetables," he sighed to nobody in particular, staring at what would have been tomorrow's breakfast as it spilled messily out onto the street.