Don Kuat

Now ... 

The feet of my bulwark clank as I stalk through the hospital corridor, one eye glued to the sensor readout displayed on my HUD. Lots of life signs, but most of them aren't moving. Patients in the wards either sleeping or pretending to sleep, given the massive racket I've caused when smashing through the wall. A few contacts are already heading toward my location to investigate. But as long as I keep my lock on the Saint, I will be able to track her no matter where she tries to hide. 

I don't bother actually following the corridor. Orientating myself to face the Saint's current location as the crow flies, I walk straight into the intervening concrete wall, smashing it into rubble and emerging in the adjoining ward. There are a number of beds arranged in neat rows, most with the privacy screens tightly drawn, but I nevertheless see several beast people patients cowering in their beds and staring at my machine with a look of fear.

The pair of nurses who had been rushing to investigate the ruckus immediately come to a dead stop the moment they are confronted with an armed bulwark and promptly run off in the opposite direction. My finger itches to gun them down to prevent a call for help from going out, but I pull myself back with an effort. If I was going to eliminate every possible witness, I would be in the hospital the whole night. Swallowing my almost visceral annoyance at this conundrum, I get back to pursuing the Saint as the nurses dash through the ward's door without looking back. 

Disgusting. Look at them. Just look at these rapefugees littering Rais Land, like garbage oozing out of a split trash bag. Cowering away from me, appearing so scared that they would wet their bed pans at any moment. The rapefugees in the city are little better, living in their filthy hovels like the animals they so resemble. Eating, shitting and fornicating. But I'm not stupid. The gleam in the patients' eyes does not escape my notice while I chase after the Saint. 

Its an expression of pure hatred, kept in check by their craven cowardice. The rapefugees here who shank me in the back without a second thought if they believed they could get away with it. But what else can you expect from rapefugees? So what if I'm in a bulwark? That's not going to stop anyone if they're willing to stand up for themselves. I know that from experience. Back on earth, nothing stopped me from doing what was right. Protecting my community from scum like this. Even if most people did not appreciate what we were trying to do. 

And that's the thing, people that defend rapefugees always say that we don't understand what they're going through. But that's wrong. We know perfectly well what they're going through. That look in a rapefugee's eyes is all you need to see to get the low down about what they are all about. The real problem is, most people either don't want to see or don't want to accept what their eyes tell them. The heart can lie, but a person's mind will always reach the truth. 

The truth that a rapefugee hates you for what you have, hates you for the person you are and will never stop, until he has taken away everything that is yours. 

Why?

Because all the rapefugee thinks about is the injustice he has experienced. He thinks that just because he has experienced injustice, everyone else has to bend over and spread their ass cheeks wide open for him and his buddies. The rapefugee never bothers considering why he became a rapefugee in the first place. Despite the fact that the reason is glaringly obvious and staring right at the rapefugee's dumb bovine, literally in this world, face. 

Rapefugees become what they are because they have ruined their own homes. Simple as that. No matter what world you're in, this truth is eternal. Rais Land is majority beast person. The whole purpose of Rais Land being set up is to eventually become a state for the beast people. A state where beast people are free from prejudice or persecution. And one of the first things I discover in my time here is the bloody slave market where rapefugees sell each other like merchandise. Go figure. 

The only places that are borderline acceptable in the whole of Rais Land are within the inner city, because guess what, that's where the Coalition has a presence. Or more accurately, these are the places where humans live and not rapefugees. And the local rapefugees keep making a run for the Citadel, where they spread vice and crime. Give them a bit more time and the rapefugees will begin clamoring for recognition in the Citadel itself. 

Rapefugees demand justice from everyone around them. Except themselves. Like I said, disgusting. 

Its really just like Earth isn't it? 

I should just gun everyone in this hospital down, it would be doing Rais Land a favor. Like I gunned rapefugees down back on Earth. But they keep coming and coming and coming and coming without end without rest on and on and on and on and on and there's the truck the stupid truck if not for the truck I wouldn't be here I could be back home living my life doing my own thing it should be different it has to be different why didn't things work out on that accursed day fucking Burke fucking factory fucking Directorate sending the trucks to the factory and then - 

"Gah!" I shout in alarm as my bulwark plows through another wall, the impact jolting me to my senses.

Cold sweat runs down my back as I quickly get back on the trail of the Saint. That was dangerous, too dangerous. I can't allow myself to drift off like that again. Stay in the now. This is my second chance, I can't afford blow it. 

I won't allow myself to blow it. 

Does Wu know about my issues? I swallow hard while considering the possibilities. The Directorate had told me all was forgiven when I was deployed. I need to prove that I can be trusted. That I can be relied upon. I don't want my feeding tube back on Earth to be pulled out. 

I don't want to die. 

Focus. I remind myself that I am doing a good thing, fighting for a worthy cause. Earth will be saved, thanks to me. And there will be a public holiday declared in my honor. Max Day. Yeah, that sounds great. I'm going to ask for a statue as well, so that everyone will remember me once I'm gone. Gritting my teeth, I send the bulwark stomping toward the private wards, steadily closing in on the position of the Saint. She's not moving anymore, probably choosing to hide since she has no chance of outrunning me on foot. 

The HUD tells me the ward the Saint is hiding in also holds two other patients, both of which are frantically moving about. I angle myself at door barring entry and raise my auto gun in anticipation. Quickly blasting the Saint and fleeing would be the plan. There's no telling how much time I have left. Even if the Coalition does not rally and send its bulwarks to the hospital, there are still two Blue Ocean operatives on the roof tangling with the fat priestess. 

With a mental command from me, the HUD translates the position of the three contacts into wireframes layered over my viewscreen. And the image I receive betrays all expectations. There's just a single, but large bed in the private ward and two of the figures are lying on it, with one straddling the other and pounding away frantically like a jackhammer with his crotch. The Saint, from the position of the wireframe representing her, is hiding somewhere behind the rutting duo who are paying absolutely no attention to her. 

Damn, better get a good view girl, you're not going to get a chance to do it on your own account. 

I level my auto gun at the blank wall, drawing a bead on the wireframes. Thanks to the position of the horny oblivious pair, I'll need to gun them down in the process of getting at the Saint. Serves them right though. I'll take it as my contribution to public morality in Rais Land. 

"Ahhh ... Sammie ..." a man's guttural cry comes from the ward, "I love you ..."

"Gross." I snort, vaguely recalling someone familiar but memory holing the irrelevant recollection, "At least you two can be together forever."

The auto gun barks with authority, slugs punching through the wall and flying unerringly toward the wireframes. The HUD registers my shots tearing into the horny duo and ripping up the wall behind them. Didn't manage to hit the Saint though, the angle of the shots was bad. There's an abrupt scream coming from the man and he slumps on top of his partner. Wounds to vital organs, he won't last long. The woman is injured as well, and I'll need another volley to finish them both. The Saint shrinks into a ball, wedging herself in the small space between the bed and wall. 

I kick down the door and barge into the room, eager to finish this farce once and for all. What greets me the sight of a woman buried under the muscular bulk of a wolf man, who is bleeding freely from his wounds. The woman struggles valiantly under the weight of her sex partner but fails hilariously, leaving herself pinned down under that slab of bloody meat. As I begin to close in on my targets, I realize that the woman is lame, with both her legs in heavy casts. And piercing through the ruckus is the voice of the Saint, whimpering away impotently. The woman's eyes peek over the rapefugee's shoulder and fall on my machine, taking in the numbers and heraldry stenciled on its frame. 

"You ... " the woman gasps as the wolf man groans in pain, "Mr Auxila who does not like men."

"Oh right, never thought I would see you again." I grunt from the external speaker, remembering that asshole Valkyrie who kept pinching my ass, "Don't think either of you will be getting a happy ending tonight." The auto pistol draws level at the pair with an air of finality. The HUD beeps obligingly as fire control is engaged again. 

Then completely out of nowhere, the serum in my blood screams in alarm, blotting out almost all of my awareness. Death sense takes over, bellowing that I am in danger. Extremely grave danger. 

"Damn it!" I curse in anger while whipping about, scanning the area.

Those blasted Blue Ocean operatives must be just outside the ward. The bulwark's sensors probe outward fruitlessly, finding nothing to my consternation. I begin flicking through different tracking modes, hoping to get a hit as death sense hollers at me, getting louder and louder. This is nothing like what I've experienced before. Its as if a scared animal has been sewn inside my skin and desperately wants to bolt away. It takes every available shred of willpower to just stand my ground. But I can do this. I am an Operative of the Directorate. That alone sets me above almost everyone in Rais Land. 

"Sammmmieeee!" the rapefugee screams at the top of his voice, forcing me to turn around to bear witness to the sight of his thrashing, humping body.

A glut of blood spews from the wolf man's mouth as his body begins to tear itself apart, unable to withstand the strain of coitus combined with the gunshot wounds. Part of me wants to recoil in disgust, but death sense almost physically pulls my attention toward one of the rapefugee's hands, which is interlaced with the asshole Valkyrie's fingers. I scowl and want to go back to working the HUD, but death sense refuses to relinquish its hold. My eyes water from the heat of the serum and zoom in almost telescopically, revealing that the rapefugee and the asshole are holding something between their fingers. 

A deployment earring. 

A shard of ice pierces my heart. The danger, its right in front of me. The deployment earring begins to emit a nimbus of divine energy, thick and heavy with menace. I unload with my gun as the rapefugee throws himself upward with his hands outstretched, shielding the Valkyrie and the Saint from my attack. The bullets tear him apart and send the wolf man crashing right back into the asshole's arms. As the earring falls to the floor, the deployment process executes, flash forging armor plates from the ether. 

There's a scream of agony from the asshole as metal cuts deep into her body, nailing her together with the wolf man. That's crazy, the earring's in built safeties should have aborted the bulwark's deployment. But more and more pieces of the machine are summoned, impaling the pair with savage energy. There's a ripping noise as circuitry traces its way across the naked bodies, tearing heaving flesh asunder.  I watch, transfixed in a mixture of horror and fascination. 

The asshole screams again, this time over the noise of breaking bones as her bulwark forcibly wrenches her body into a workable state. Liquid metal is poured from the armor plates into the gaping wounds that dot the bodies of the asshole and her lover, fusing the injuries shut. My HUD goes bonkers, yammering about divine energy output beyond its ability to measure. 

And with a bright flash of light, a shockwave of force throws me off my feet, sending me skidding out of the ward and into the darkness.