Hatred

[rodentus_callidus]

*smiles* Hatred. Now this is much better topic, ja? Much more my style. *chuckles* Hatred is the province of the weak, after all, and I am very weak little rat. Very weak indeed. And as such, I have made a study of my hate. Others', too, but mine own in particular.

Tchu. Let's see. There are two types of hate, I think. There is hate born in anger, and hate born in fear. The first, it is formed quickly, expended violently, and carries the greater risk. The second, it is slowly seeded, coldly executed, and is the safer because fear keeps the hate conscious of the risk. Hatred born in anger is a fast and messy thing. Hatred born in fear is slower and more deadly. Physically speaking, of course. In other ways, it is by far the more poisonous.

Hmmm. An example. Let us say there is a group of rats. Thugs. Let us say they are extortionists, of the very crudest kind. Let us say a certain blind doctor is among their potential assets. Let us say they take it upon themselves to relocate his kidneys. Lets us say the doctor does not enjoy this experience. Let say, in fact, that he hates it, and them. Immediately, and quite virulently. Let us say in anger and hatred, he calls a certain friend with certain violent tendancies, and asks her to take care of them. Let us say she does.

The problem is solved, the hate sated, all inside a few days. Fast, hard, exceptionally messy. And now, the little doctor owes this violent friend a favour, and a whole new group of enemies is aware of his ability to have damage done. Tchu! Stupid. Very stupid. Now he is a threat to some dangerous people, and in debt to one even more dangerous. All for hate. *shakes head* Messy, ja? Dangerous. Costly.

Now, another example. Let us say there is a young rat, blind, recently come below from the surface. Let us say he is somewhat ... shaken ... by certain experiences, somewhat mistrustful and yet also somewhat naive. Let us say he does not fully understand how things work in Carogne, not yet. And let us say there is a certain Polizei general. Very powerful. Very friendly. Let us say he takes the young doctor under his wing, so to speak. Let us say he is kind to him. At first. Let us say that for the first time in a long time, the young rat feels safe and valued.

Let us say the young rat is an idiot. But that is neither here nor there.

Let us say then that things start to change. Let us say that the young doctor starts finding himself being asked to do ... certain things, that only his skill with the body allow him to do. Let us say that he is asked to hurt people. Let us say that he refuses. And then ... let us say that he is made to realise his mistake. Let us say that he is made to fear. Let us say that he is given a sudden and very thorough idea of how things work. And let us say he grows to hate. Slowly. Coldly. And always, always, in fear.

Let us say some years pass. Let us say the young doctor becomes known in certain circles. Makes some friends. Some plans. And let us say that, some years later, for inexplicable reasons, our friend the general gets caught in the middle of a confrontation between Wekha and Polizei, and is found very dead the next morning. Poison. It is presumed he was sliced badly during the fight. It is not a bad presumption. In the reshuffle following his death, several of his ... assets ... get temporarily mislaid, and when the time comes to gather them back up, the now not-so-young doctor is firmly established as an independant entity in a disputed area of the city, and is far too hot for the weakened faction to consider picking him back up.

So. All is well, ja? Hatred, when cold, when frightened, is so much more effective, tchu. Exceptionally so. But. There are costs. And like the hate that births them, they are slower. They are colder. And they are so very much more effective.

For without the general, there is a vacuum of power in the Families, in the Polizei. Their grip is weakened, and infighting becomes nothing short of spectacular. And while the Polizei turn inward on each other, certain factions among the Wekha begin to take advantage. For a long time, some years, things teeter very close to war, and huge areas of the city are rewritten. For one rat's hatred, a city almost becomes the cost. Innocent, frightened little doctor, driven by hate and fear, not knowing what he unleashed. *chuckles darkly* Or so he says, if asked.

*sighs, shakes head* So. Hatred. A pricey business, tchu. Anger or fear, fast or slow, always messy in the end. The question with hate, as with everything, is whether or not it is worth the price. And perhaps it will tell you much about me that, of the two examples I have given ... the first is the only one I regret. *laughs softly* Maybe that, too, is the price of hatred. But if so, I have paid it, and will pay it, and count it worth paying.

Always.