Day 6 - Night

Fort Matthew - MacArthur Hall

*tach* *tach* *tach*

A few minutes walk down a small cracked asphalt two-lane from Jackson Hall, is MacArthur Hall. Another red brick four-story dorm but banana shaped instead of Y. Across the street is faculty housing. With actual houses. South of the dorm is a small golf course. Tennis courts to the east. And west are more dorms.

It's ten o'clock at night and there isn't a cloud in the sky. A sea of stars stretch above our heads. The heat and humidity is still oppressive though. Scents of grass and seawater mix together. 

The “tent city” thins quickly. Most of the campus’s squatters having moved out a couple weeks ago. Closer to the Kitchen, Baths and Clinic on 14th Ave as soon as they were placed and the Wall went up.

But of course they left their trash behind.

We’ve left the Chevalier and Psionicist behind with the Prostitute. So it's only me and my seven woman, “royal guard.” On the way I review Louis’s memories.

Jonathan Grant’s "gentleman's club," is in the basement of MacArthur Hall. Accessible by elevators, stairwell and an outside staircase. There are no signs or markers. But everyone knows it's there. “Johnny’s” is an open secret in Fort Matthew. 

His was the only sex store in town until the council purchased a Brothel I, “The Peach,” through the system store. Other pimps have their girls selling themselves through websites, bars or even on street corners. Admit I am curious about the Peach. Wonder who its system slave is. A succubus?

And how it stacks up against other "houses of ill repute" I've been too.

Louis knew the club was there. He just avoided the place. Prostitution is illegal in most of the UAS but he never saw himself as a cop or judge. Back in the projects there were pimps, hookers and girls who "turned tricks" whenever they needed money. It wasn't legal but, it is what it is.

Besides, the hero was too busy fighting monsters and left the law to people who should know it and handle it better than him.

Yeah, Slave Market, that didn't work out so well.

With four worlds under my belt I've learned that prostitution and slavery both have their place. As long as they are well regulated and monitored. Unfortunately, both tend to not be. Tend to be abused, in fact.

Dehumanization.

Also, turns out slavery is a line in the sand for Louis. He tolerated it when it was from "outside" Fort Matthew. But discovering a slave market inside his town? Triggered that sliver of remaining consciousness something fierce. 

So now the seven I, he, gave power to, and their cronies, are dead.

Okay, so what’s on my short list?

1. Reform the militia into a Defense Department
   1. Speak to Barracks Manager about training and hiring
2. Reform the deputies into a Police Department
   1. Purchase Police Station
   2. Speak to Station Manager about training and hiring
3. Get Arsenal, Smelter and Recycler operational
4. Create other City Departments
   1. Church Department?
   2. Justice Department?
5. Introduce a legal code
6. Expand the safe zone
7. Build a helicarrier.
8. ???
9. Profit

Sigh.

Well, that's a lot. First off, absolutely need a “professional” force. Fort Matthew is already too big to be relying on “militia.” The system slave in the new barracks can handle the initial training and organizing for recruits. Second, “deputies” need to be gone. Stat! I’ll create an FMPD until the NAPD can be restored.

Once those two get the security of Fort Matthew back on its feet I can focus on the new industries. A steady flow of arms and ammo will improve things across the board.

Also need other city departments. Health, Housing, Education, etc… There's a good size catholic church along Benson that could be used to get christianity registered. If it hasn't been already. And the 62nd Precinct is on Wash Ave for the police.

How about a Justice Department like Dredd's Hall of Justice? Then would I even need cops? The street judges could have assistants called bailiffs or something. That may be going too far. Start off with courts at least.

Of course if you are going to have law enforcement then you need laws to enforce. Can just copy paste some stuff but there's a ton of laws on the books. A new Bill of Rights perhaps? And the system has its own much more vague version. They'll never match up exact-

Oh, we're here.

MacArthur Hall is still "student" housing and I honestly don't know what they've been up to. Even before Johnny's scheme, Louis was the outsider looking in. Heard most who stayed ended up working for various stores and town hall.

We go to the outside entrance of the whorehouse. Reaching the top of stairs going down reveals a heavy fire door at the bottom that’s propped open. Pop music is thumping. Turn around to my "guard." Who are bathed in soft light from the dorm windows above. 

"This is gonna get ugly." Scowl. "They are all… guilty." Pause. "You don't have to come with me."

Jet squeezes my hand and gazes into my eyes. "You are the king. You are the law." A quick kiss. "Show them no one is above the law."

<Nina: I think she likes you.>

Shush.

The smell hits as soon as we clear the doorway. Incense. Thick and heavy. But under it? A reek of sex, drugs and despair.

Walking through hanging beads at the end of a short hallway exposes a typical strip club setup. Bar to the right. Stage to the left. With a stripper pole. There are other doors probably leading to other entrances and "private" rooms. A large mirror is behind the bar. Probably one-way glass.

In between the bar and stage are small round tables and cheap armless chairs. No booths against the walls though. Lighting is from small spotlights mounted along the ceiling line. Most are red or blue but there are other colors too. Gaudy curtains cover the cellar windows. Blech. It's certainly no Moulin Rouge.

Someone turns off the music.

*shlap* *shlap* *shlap* 

A sound comes from the middle of the chamber. All but one table have been pushed back to the walls. Same with the chairs. Making a large open space. And in the middle of it, the remaining table is shaking.

Laid across the top, belly down, is a mostly naked teenager. Legs hang off one side. Behind them is the douchebag, Johnny, pants around his ankles and humping with all his might. The asshole stares at me with a big grin on his face.

He looks funny though with a large part of an ear missing. It's been healed but not regrown.

Along the right, left and back of the room are a dozen plus high school GoodFellas wannabes. Dressed in suits and armed with various projectile and melee weapons. 

*cry* *sob*

In-between fatty and the stage are over two dozen girls. All look around my age or younger and dressed like, well, hookers. Some in older styles you might find in wild west saloons. Others in straight street walker getups. Short shorts, tight tops, etc… There’s even naughty nurse and sexy maid outfits being worn.

Guess they pillaged a costume store

The ladies are on the bare concrete floor. Some sitting. Some kneeling. A few cling to each other and cry. Several stare off into space with lightless eyes. Quite a few look like they’ve been smacked around. A bruise here. A welt there.

Many are staring at me in shock. Like I am the last soul in this world they expected, or wanted, to see. Some that recover try to hide their faces. Some join the other cryers.

Their grief annoys Johnny so he yells at them. "Shut up!" Before facing me again and resumes pumping the whore. "Recognize her?" Grabs a handful of her hair and pulls it back. Lifting the panting face.

And I do. Sarah Ellis. Though she didn't have those tattoos or dyed orange hair when I last saw her a couple months ago. Had begged me to take an internship at her family's corporate headquarters and then ghosted when it suddenly fell through.

Seriously, could not find her to ask what happened. Well, now I know what happened. In fact I recognize most of the ladies here. Many lobbied me to go to this business or that college. And then each vanished when things went sideways.

Of course Louis didn't worry about it that much. Saying the kid was "driven" is the understatement of the year. He simply moved on and kept pushing forward.

None of these prostitutes look in very good shape. They all appear malnourished and abused. With bad makeup and cheap tattoos. Plus that wasted look from too many drugs and too little sleep.

Sarah's face becomes filled with horror as she realizes who's walked in. Tears begin streaming down her cheeks.

"So?" Even Louis isn't that upset. He'd only had eyes for Cynth after all. "You already told me you and Cynthia broke every girl who liked me."

Jonathon Grant's facade cracks and his hips stop rocking.

"Wha?"

Facepalm. "My god, are you really this pathetic?" Golf clap. "Congratulations, finding out how faithless Cynthia was? Hurt, a lot." No, I'm not going to monologue again. "But that's it." Roll my eyes. "Jesus, short round, get a life."

*zKOW*

The weight of the Steelwolf revolver feels good in my left hand. As I quickdraw from its holster, twist and hip fire at the motion on my left. The 40 cal Shortball hollow point makes that distinct scraping sound as [Propel] launches it down a six inch barrel.

An ounce and a half of lead explosively exits the barrel traveling at fifteen hundred feet per second. Burning mana trails behind it. Without the hard surface of the rifled barrel to act against. The modified [Haste] spell goes inert and the spinning two inch long bullet's flight becomes purely ballistic. 

Over seventeen thousand joules punch through the adventurer trying to ambush me from behind a heavy purple curtain. His chestplate and Iron ranked mana are not up to the task of stopping a projectile designed to kill Bronze ranks.

The through and through takes a lot of his innards with it, out a massive exit wound as he's blasted back into the oversized curtain he was hiding in. Ripping it free from the window as the merc tumbles. System awarding me points for killing the assassin classed, uh, assassin before he even hits the floor. 

I recognize the corpse.

Knew "Deadeye" was shady as fuck but never thought he would accept a hit on me.

Forward spin the Steelwolf back into its sheath. Hearing that sweet sound of metal on leather as I focus back on fatty.

“Jonathan Grant.” How did it go again? “You stand convicted of abuse, coercion, abduction and homicide.” That's it. "Jonathan, "Johnny," Grant and all members of his gang have been sentenced to death." Pan across the room. "How many of you are members of his criminal enterprise?"

*klang* *ching* *bonk*

The cowed teenaged Godfather cosplayers drop their weapons on the concrete floor. Idiots. Surprised none of the firearms go off accidentally. I point at the bar.

"You are all still suspects. Stand there and wait for questioning."

The fearful heirs and scions of upper class families shuffle past and gather in front of the countertop. Some mumble "sorry" or "sorry boss" as they pass Cynthia’s pimp.

Didn't notice before but fatass is now wearing our school uniform. Couldn’t tell you where mine, Louis’s, even is anymore. The Grant family's pride and joy glares at me with loathing.

"I still won." Moron states with pride.

Wow. "Dumbass. You're going to die here. Bleeding out on the floor of a shitty whorehouse. I'm going to a mini-palace and fuck a bunch of babes who want to spread their legs for me. No blackmail or drugs needed." Materialize a combat knife for my right hand. "Now do you want your dick chopped up first or last?"

Sarah's curled up into a fetal position on the table while Johnny, with his pants still around his ankles, stumbles back into the chair behind him.

"Wa-wait! I g-got money!" Frantic. "Drugs! You can have the girls!" Covers his dick with his hands and screams. "Don't you know who I am?! … Mommy!"

*BANG* *zKOW* *crack* "Aiyee!"

The panicking pimp pulls a chrome plated 9mm and fires from fifteen feet away as I approach. The less than quarter ounce bullet hits me at a bit over eleven hundred feet per second and with less than five hundred joules.

Missing the plates it tears into Fibermesh as I feel a light punch. But against a Silver ranked body? It will be lucky if it even leaves a bruise.

Draw Steelwolf again and give his 9mm a forty-four hundred joule reply. Ripping the pistol out of his hand and breaking a couple fingers in the process.

*zKOW* "Aiyee!"

Oops, hehe, tried a Buster Scruggs. You know, shooting the other guy's fingers off? But forgot that I'm sending a hell of a lot more power his way.

"Aaah!"

So, yeah, he's got half a hand now. Guess I'll start calling him "Lefty."

"Oh, don't be a baby." I admonish. Johnny's fallen off the chair and stares dumbly at his mangled right hand. Walk up and lean over. "Still feeling like you won?"

Pimp cradles his ruined paw and struggles up to his knees. Raising his left like it will ward me off.

"Okay! You win! I-I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I'll do anything you want! Please don't kill me! Please!"

Tilt my head, confused. "But you are doing what I want."

"Wha-what?" Now he's confused.

"Dying." Misunderstanding resolved.

"You… you're crazy."

Lift the knife. “You have no idea-”

“Wait!” A shout from behind me.

Sigh. Goddammit.

Stand and look over my shoulder to see Cynth, Ely and Sybel at the entrance. Cynth isn’t dressed in her torn stained hooker outfit anymore. Nope. Now she’s in… my sister’s clothes? Fuck. This bitch just can’t stop pissing me off.

“What the fuck do you-”

“If it pleases the court!” Skank interrupts me again… and kowtows? “I ask to make a victim statement!”

Uh, what the fuck is she talking about?

<Nina: Reviewing your memories, “victim impact statements” are given during sentencing to let the judge know how the crime affected its victims. Describing the mental, physical and social impacts suffered due to the crime.>

Huh. For the record, I blame this on all the crime shows my wife liked to watch.

…

Fuck it. Switch back to Dredd mode.

“Proceed.”

*crack*

Pick up fatass by the throat and drop him back onto the armless metal and plastic chair. March back over to my guard chicks, dropping the tactical knife on the round cafe table as I pass, and plop down on the chair they set out. Jet and Kasa already flank my new throne. Their hands immediately start exploring me. Carly and Chen pout a little but settle for being mad at everyone making this shit take so long.

I feel ya, babes. I feel ya.

Cynthia Houghton frowns at the women around me. Lingering over the ones rubbing and nibbling on her ex. Until the prostitute visibly gathers herself and stomps towards Jonathan Grant. Skank’s wearing my sister’s jeans and hooters tank top. While showing off her big thick titties. All it does is make me want to drop her down the nearest goblin hole.

Hear Johnny hissing through the pain. “Slave, your master orders you to save me. Do that? And I’ll take you back.” Leers from his seat. “All the drugs and dick you can handle, forever.” Nods. “You’d love that, right? Then save me. Save your master.”

Cynth trembles as she rests both hands on the tabletop between them. Her voice is filled with pain and regret. But also clear and carries across the club.

“One mistake. That was all it took. And my life? Over. Future? Gone.” Johnny’s eyes bulge as the broken sex slave in front of him is no longer behaving like a broken sex slave. Then he notices how much healthier she looks.

Jonathan sneers. “Healing magic.”

“Hehe, yes.” Cynthia chuckles. “My mind is whole again. Now I remember everything you did. Realize how you dragged me down. Deeper and deeper. Until I drowned.” A tear hits the table. “I would rather be dead than see my fall, so clearly. So obviously.”

The bleeding already pissed himself pimp barks. “Ha! You loved it, piggy. Oink, oink.”

Nodding. “True. Though that makes my choices even worse. Even more unforgivable.” Tears on the tabletop. “And out of jealousy I dragged others down with me. All to hurt the only man who ever loved the girl. Instead of the princess.” Slowly shakes her head. “I am truly damned to hell.”

Fatass laughs and coughs. “Is there a point, your anal highness? Are you the ghost of Christmas past? Taking us back to the time you and Sarah competed over who could fit the most dicks from the basketball team?”

Skank shakes her head and glances at the used Miss Ellis bawling on another whore’s shoulder.

“No. I have already been found guilty. Already sentenced.” Looks over her shoulder at me. Tears running down her cheek. “I will suffer for the rest of my days. Knowing only shame and regret. Until the judge chooses to end my misery.”

“Fuck, bitch, then make yourself useful for once.” Coughs some more. “Bring me a healing potion.”

Stands straight and smiles down at him. “You failed, Jonathan. I still love Louis.” Gets a dreamy distant look. “One kiss. And everything came rushing back. No matter how filthy you make me? One touch of his lips and I am clean again. Purified. You lost, tiny.”

Cynthia’s triumphant look does not have the desired effect.

“Hahahahaha!” Johnny’s laughing fit is stopped by coughing. “Her royal anus is one stupid asshole.” Giggles at his own joke. “You thought this was about love? Dumb sex slave. How many times do I have to tell you? I knew you would never love me. So I made you useless to everyone else!”

He’s beginning to look pretty pale. Really don’t want to waste a spell healing him though.

Skank’s face turns emotionless as she walks around the table. “I know.” Fingers the over foot long knife laying on it. “However, we are going to the same place. So I decided to remind you, since you are going first, that I will never pick you.” Picks it up and eyes the edge. “Even a hundred lifetimes would not be enough for anyone to choose you.”

“Fuck you.”

“There will always be someone better than you.”

“Bitch!”

“So many will always be better than tiny little you.”

“Shut up!”

“No, Little John. You will never tell me what to do again.”

*sulch*

Cynthia stabs downward with the bayonet. Impaling Johnny’s exposed, because the idiot still has his pants down, privates.

"AIYEEE!"

The screech from her pimp gets higher and louder as he tries to fend off his victim. Slash. Jab. Stab. The blade cuts into his penis and testes over and over again.

"Auugh!"

Blood and other fluids gush out as his groin is shredded. Cynth roars and pushes him off the slick chair to the floor. Where she straddles his legs and resumes plunging the knife down.

Mr Grant's resistance fades as the wounds mount. His waist is a mess of torn flesh. Impact spatter and pool stains of blood fill the center of the room. Ms Houghton drips with gore from head to toe. Finally, she stops hacking and just stares at him.

Well, sis's clothes are ruined.

*shudder*

Jonathan's death rattle is followed by Cynthia quivering. Did she just orgasm? Points arrive. Not much because it only counts as an assist. Still proof he's dead.

*chu* *chu*

Give the Heartbreaker's sorceress and thief each a kiss before standing and walking towards Cynthia.

<Nina: I want her. Give her to me.>

What?

<Nina: Look at her. She’s still completely broken. Now just in a fun way. She’ll be perfect for my project.>

Project? What project? Nina…

<Nina: Don’t give me that. I know you are beyond pissed over this clusterfuck. The only reason you aren't raising undead all over the place is because you don't plan to stay.>

So?

<Nina: So there is room for some cultist wackos who will do anything you tell them too! Completely loyal.>

Bullshit, flesh is weak.

<Nina: I can fix that. And aren't you flesh?>

Flesh can also be fun.

<Nina: You'll need a lot more people and resources to build your airship. Taking this city quickly will require many dirty deeds. Who better to use than broken people who will never be whole again anyway?>

Hmm… Alright, what's your plan?

…

Thanks to the speed of thought, only a few seconds pass before I can focus on the blood drenched Cynthia. 

"Handcuffs."

Her breathing becomes ragged. "Handcuffs?"

"Yes." I nod. "Two for each of them." Point to Johnny's thugs. "This pit should have plenty. Go get them."

Slut's eyes sparkle as she runs off. Leaving bloody footprints and splatter behind her. While she's off pillaging the S&M rooms I face the mafia wannabes and point downward while channeling a classic Superman villain.

"Kneel before Zod!¹https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFyHTU8tg_0"

The punks look at each other, bewildered. Okay, granted, that quote may be a smidge before their time.

*zBOOM*

Fortunately, do it or I'll blow your fucking brains out, is timeless.

The 50 cal Ironbear revolver communicates, by removing a rapist's head, that even if they don't know who Zod is? They better fucking kneel. And the remainder do just that.

While waiting for Cynth I do some forward and backward spins with my revolvers. Both groups stare at me, terrified.

*tap* *tap* *tap*

Louis’s ex comes running back in with an armful of restraints. Drops to her knees and gazes up at me expectantly.

"Handcuff them. Wrists behind their backs, then ankles."

*snik*

The dyed red Ms Houghton nods eagerly and moves through the kneeling male prisoners. Getting looks of disgust and disdain from her former coworkers.

As she tries to kowtow again I stop her with a raised hand. “Go, stand with your friends.” Cynthia hesitates for a moment before sadly shuffling back to Elly and Sybel. Who wrinkle their noses at her new odor.

One of the guys finally gathers enough courage to speak. “What happens now?” Somehow he looks both angry and ashamed. “I’ve done things, we all have, that I could never imagine doing before.” Glares at the pimp’s corpse and his first sex slave. “But those two forced us to!”

Agreements from his fellow lost boys.

“Not our fault.” “Made us do it.”

Yeah, to fucking bad.

“Harvey Anderson, and other members of Johnny’s criminal enterprises.” Dredd mode really is intimidating. “You are charged with numerous crimes. Coercion, abuse, extortion, narcotics, corruption, conspiracy… and rape.” Some flinch as I state their misdeeds. Others look incredulous. “I find you guilty on all counts.”

“No!” “Wait!” “This isn’t fair!” “Appeal!”

The condemned gasp in shock as a woman pops into existence beside me. Dressed as a nun, of sorts.

She wears knee high white leather boots with stiletto heels. A black cotton long sleeved tunic that almost touches the floor. Shoulders, neck and head are hidden beneath a snug white cotton cowl. While a hanging black veil covers her head, nape and face. Hands are wrapped in elbow length white leather gloves. 

Only her blue eyes, bronze eyebrows, and the coppery skin around them are visible.

Yep, it's Nina. Completing the look, rosary beads hang from a cloth belt tied around the waist. A band is on the left ring finger and a cross dangles from a chain around the neck. All silver. Unnoticed but the tunic has a split on the left and right sides. Making it easier to reach the holstered and slung weapons underneath.

My, uh, nunbot? Turns to me, drops to her knees, clasps hands, bows head and says what I haven’t heard in years.

“O mighty Father. Bringer of salvation and damnation. Giver of eternal unlife. We ask thee, show mercy to the poor. Heal the wounded. Raise the fallen. Seek the lost and cleanse our sins. In your son’s name we pray. Amen.”

Frankie even told you the godbeast cult’s prayer?! Though it sounds a bit off in english. Hehe, wonder how Isaac would react to his name being a holy word in medieval world.

<Nina: The Grand High Priestess believed you might need followers. So she taught me the tenets of your faith.>

Ugh…

"Very well." A scroll is suddenly in my raised hand and starts disintegrating. "[Greater Mass Regeneration]"

Mana visibly ripples out from me. A green wave washing over everyone in the room. The "royal guard" are barely affected because I used one on them already. After the gunfight on 7th. But Cynth shudders, cuming again, while the two debutantes are flabbergasted.

Johnny’s GoodFellas aren't healed much besides gaining some more clarity. Clearing the haze of their addiction of choice. They've been living pretty well off the girls selling themselves. The whores on the other hand? Months of abuse, addiction and damage fade from their bodies and minds. You can watch their bodies getting healthier.

The anguish on their faces tells another story. Every mistake. Every misdeed. Every sin is brought front and center. Their come to Jesus moment is here. 

Step up to Sarah. Who looks wracked with guilt and shame.

"Sarah Ellis, and other prostitutes, your crimes include conspiracy, fraud, coercion, narcotics and prostitution. Do you have anything to say before sentencing?"

The once innocent girl obsessed with unicorns sobs quietly. Shoulders shaking.

"I am guilty, Louis. Betrayed you, my family, myself." Glares at the skank. "Bitch was right. Would rather be dead than know how much I've lost-eeek!"

Sarah squeals as Nina reaches over, grabs a mass of her orange hair and easily picks her up by it. Suspended with both feet off the ground. She cannot escape her accuser.

"Our lord saves you, heals you, offers you salvation and you deny him!" Shakes her by the hair before letting go. "Do you care nothing for your soul?!"

Sarah hits the ground and scrambles back in pain and fear. All the sluts do as Nina prowls forward. 

"Your souls are stained! Weighed down by the filth of your deeds! And believe death is a release?!" Scary catholic nun. System apocalypse edition. "You condemn yourself to eternal torment! Utter damnation!"

In some scenarios, yes. But I'm not sure how the system handles spirits here.

"Your lost hope stands before you! How many nights did you dream of waking in his arms? Of him coming to your rescue? Now that he is here, you wish for death?!"

*ding* *tang* *kling*

Knives, daggers, and stilettos of various sizes and shapes land in front of the stunned girls.

"Then do it! End your lives. And lose your last chance for true freedom. True love. And justice." Nunbot walks away.

"No! Let me go! I want a retrial! My family will pay-mmph."

And returns holding Harvey by the neck with a wad of cloth stuffed in his mouth.

"Ow!" Tossing him in front of a young lady who has already picked up a knife. Hitting the concrete knocks the cloth out of his mouth.

Nina steps next to the girl who I expect to slash her own wrists any moment now. Whispering in her ear.

“Or take back your dream. Prove your love to our lord. And serve him in this life. Be rewarded in this life.”

Apparently Harvey doesn’t like what he’s hearing. “Hey, Anna, right?” The girl's eyes finally move from the blade to the rapist. “You liked it, right? You said I was great, okay?” Dude, read the room. “Even got you time with that nice councilman, remember?”

"He said to call him daddy." Her eyes turn cold. "As he choked me."

"Um… uh…" Harvey appears lost for words.

She steps over the stuttering thug and walks up to me. Everyone in the club is watching.

"Do you remember me?" Those eyes are hopeful but used to disappointment.

I smile. "Macia Jenner." Wrap my arms around her. "You were upset about a boy. I made sure you knew that someone as pretty as you would have no problem finding a better man." Yeah, Louis was the pussy whisperer. “You, uh, stalked me for a while after.”

Macia blushes like a pure girl who hasn’t been whoring herself for months.

“Kept stalking you.” More blushing and… fidget fingers! “Just hid better.”

*chu*

Lift her chin and give her a short kiss on the lips. What follows is a quiver I would swear travels from the hair on her head to the tips of her toes. Barely hear the mumble from the short woman snuggling in my warmth.

“Heaven.”

The young lady wiggles out from my chest and about floats back to the thug wannabe. Looks down on him with dead eyes.

“Anna hung herself four weeks ago.” Lifts the knife. “She didn’t even like Louis. Was just caught in the same trap.”

“No no n-aiyee!” *slich*

Mr Anderson tries to plead but the blade punctures his chest anyways. His scream turns into a gurgle as the air in his lungs gains a new exit. And then another. And another. The knife hacks downward again and again. Hemoglobin cast about with every swing.

Nina looks up from Macia like a proud mama, facing the others. “One has proclaimed her love. And received love and justice in return.” Spreads her arms. “Choose! Now! Love or loss! Death or life!”

“Aaahh!”

An older girl grabs a dagger and sprints at the manacled boys. Jumping on top of one as she thrusts the steel into his neck.

““Raah!”” ““Aaah!””

And opening the floodgates as the rest of the whores charge the rapists who turned their lives into a living hell. Outnumbering their oppressors more than two to one, the women have to groupon their vengeance. One stabs arms while another slashes crotches. Another cuts off the nose. As a fourth goes for the tongue.

"No!" "Stop!" "Aah!"

The high school thugs’ screams and begging quickly ends under the women's flashing blades. Getting no mercy from those they treated as sex dolls every day. Over two dozen knives hack and chop so rapidly. That a gorey mist rises and spreads through the air. As a pond of body fluids and filth grows underneath.

*blegh*

Ely leans against a wall and empties her stomach as Sybel pats her back. Yikes, she must really be sheltered.

Crying, laughing or not making a sound. Ghoulish overwrought girls stumble to me in ones and twos from the carnage. Kissing, hugging or just touching me. While I do what I've been doing since Tourin on Ipra. Injecting my mana into their auras.

Giving my little executioners a feeling of connection and intimacy unlike what can be achieved just physically or chemically. Exhausted from their psychotic episode, most collapse afterwards. While Nina walks among them. Comforting, guiding and manipulating. 

Should be concerned for their welfare, right? Shame on me? Therapy, not murdery? Wrong. It's the motherfucking apocalypse. A beat up drugged up broken hooker doesn't stand a chance. A heavily armed well trained psycho killer²https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1tj2zJ2Wvg does stand a chance.

So I'll just make them my killers.

Welcome to the jungle, baby.³https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1tj2zJ2Wvg