Smog burns the eyes of the uninitiated and the salt smell mixed with it often causes the face to scrunch. Its not a surprising sight to see newcomers and visitors coughing their lungs out into oblivion here while the born residents went on in life undisturbed even if their body would probably give out in later years from whatever the factories were burning up that day all across the port. In the old canning factory stood as the merging of both the industrial side of the port and the fishing side. But its still a cruel workplace, especially if the overseer finds you breaking a rule. On the far corner of the inner factory belt. A shark woman stared down as she carefully used a knife to chop and dress the various fish presented to her, pushing the good parts along to be canned by one of her coworkers. The rest being stored to be tossed into the wastebin. Something she couldn't fathom to think about. Her stomach rumbled, her energy already being low from having gone without food since yesterday's lunch. The temptation overcame her senses, this was trash to them anyway. They wouldn't notice. She softly brought a fish tail to her mouth but cried out as a very familiar uniformed hand gripped her wrist and with a violent tug, she was pulled forward painfully. The sound of yelling began to echo through the iron door followed by stomping before the steel door busted open, the short shark worker being tossed out as she gasped. Curling up to prevent a smack by a cane. Something she learned quickly was his punishment for most supposed slights.

"Get out of here you thief!" The labor overseer barked before slamming the door which rattled. As she gritted her teeth rubbing her arm. Walking a bit out pass the fence of the factory. Her eyes going to see the now slowly bruising flesh of the wrist. As she set on the sidewalk looking down as her tears struggled for a moment before finally deciding to fall. She got up slowly. Still processing the now lack of income she just threw away for some hunger pangs.