Chapter
2 – One Desire Replaced by Another
As I walk the streets of the city,
I notice how quickly my body heals. When I survived the explosion at the
factory, most of my body had deep cracks in it, but after some time, the gaps
healed. I know my body is supposed to be durable enough to withstand the
intense depravity of superhuman perverts, but I didn’t know my body had to be
this durable to do so. I’m already having second thoughts about my plan, and
yet, what am I going to do with my life now? I have no family to return to, and
my new body and abilities make me overqualified for my old jobs.
If I joined a hero association like
the Dominion, they’d dig into my past, uncover the crimes I’ve committed, and
either lock me up forever or execute me. Honestly, I’d rather die than do
anything else right now. I walk into an alley and start pounding my head
against the wall, initially softly, then more forcefully, until much of the
wall is broken and I see the other side. I realize I’ve attracted attention
from passersby. Idiot. If an explosion didn’t kill me, why would this? I’m an
idiot, even more so for trying to take the easy way out, as I already did when
I prostituted myself. Regaining my composure, I head back toward one of the hidden
strip clubs I’ve been in, hoping that destroying them might save others from
the life I’ve led and somehow make amends.
Going through the ruins of a
condemned, windowless building that’s under construction, I walk down the
stairs and begin hearing the pounding music of the club. The smells of desperation and depravity that
disgusted and then excited me become apparent the deeper I head down, and make
me regret not taking it as another red flag that I should’ve listened to. I
walk the dark halls, lit up by small neon lights, and see the superhuman guards
outside the door of the club. They look at me strangely, and yet, they don’t
attack or say anything to me at first.
One of them says, “Briar? Looks
like they finally upgraded your body to something better, not that your body
wasn’t hot before. Now, we can actually get to know each other a bit better.”
I stick my sharp hands through the
chests of both guards and then say, “No. You don’t want to know me better.”
Both guards are stunned at first,
and not dead yet, until I cut their heads off with another swipe of my hands. I
can’t imagine doing anything perverted again with anything, and don’t want to
imagine the further depths of depravity that these people would’ve put me
through. Kicking open the doors of the club, its loud music and wretched smells
become overwhelming as the never-ending party in it continues. I see in the men
and women here, my old self, the one who was desperate for money, and the ones
who intentionally give their bodies and souls for pleasure. I see my face on
all of them, and I become so disgusted that I start indiscriminately killing
everyone, starting with those who are enjoying themselves the most, and then
shifting over to the people who I know run the club.
The man who interviewed me begs for
his life after I cut off his limbs, but I show him no mercy, with a final swipe
at his neck so he chokes to death on his own blood. More superhumans start
coming after, all of which I have to stab multiple times in the chest, throat,
and face before they die. I’m outnumbered, and these people are better at
fighting than I am, leading to me getting beaten up more than I’m able to kill.
One of the superhumans uses her strength to punch me so hard that I go through
the wall and into a storage area. Much of the stuff is used for sex and medical
supplies involving sex. Knowing that some of it has regenerative properties, I
break the bottles and spray them all over me, which heals me up and strengthens
my body.
By the time the guards reach me,
their attacks do nothing and hurt themselves when they attack me, allowing me
to easily kill them. The chaos I’ve caused in the club has cleared it out. With
no one else here, I start cutting wires, spilling alcohol over the floors, and
light a match to make the entire place go up in flames. Next, I make my way
toward the brothel and immediately start feeling weird from the regenerating
chemicals I poured on myself. I knew the damned things were experimental and
made by inexperienced, perverted scientists, but I expected their products not
to wear off so easily.
The all too familiar feeling of a
hangover starts to make me collapse on the streets and throw up, and after
several minutes of doing so, I realize that some people have stopped to ask me
if I’m okay. I ignore them and continue forward, as my new body’s unnatural
healing kicks back in, and I feel fine enough to walk. Not one part of me wants
anyone’s help. I’ve already harmed too many innocent people with my life’s
choices, and I refuse to get anyone else hurt because of me. Heading down a
series of alleyways, I go into one building that looks to be a part of a larger
apartment, but is actually an entirely separate building, only known to those
who have connections to its owners.
Again, I am recognized by the
guards outside, and again, I am hit on, and I kill them in a similar way to the
others I’ve been killing. Despite all the destruction I’ve caused, no one in
this building probably knows what I’ve done. Word gets around slowly in seedy
circles like these because of the grip the Dominion has over the world, so the
only way they would know is if anyone was alive to tell of what I did or saw
the aftermath. As far as I know, I left no survivors who would run back to
snitch on me, and no one has discovered the damage I’ve done, perhaps, beyond
the authorities who must be investigating it. I have to get this done today
before the Dominion arrests or kills me. I must have my revenge and stop and
prevent others from living the life I lived.
Immediately breaking down the metal
door, I rush in and start on the first floor, where new employees are “interviewed”
and start killing every pervert who has a fetish for virgins, the desperate,
and scare away those who were about to be taken advantage of. The first floor
is now cleared, so I leap up through the ceiling and start clearing out the
second, where the more dedicated and experienced prostitutes and clients are.
No one is shown mercy here; neither the clients nor the employees are spared
from me crushing their heads with my foot, cutting their throats, and stabbing
them through their chests. It’s at a time like this that the inhabitants of
each room probably regret that the walls of these rooms are soundproof for the
sake of the secrecy of the perversion done in them. After making sure there’s
no one alive here, I make my way to the third floor, which is guarded by
superhumans.
Yet again, I am recognized, and the
guards think this is my first day on the third floor. Frustrated by them, I plunge
my hands into both of their heads and repeatedly punch their heads until their
heads are crushed into bits. I go up to the third floor and instantly see a
storage room that people are walking in and out of. Half of me wants to be safe
and use the regenerative chemicals on me, while the other doesn’t want the
feeling of a hangover again.
“Screw it,” I say as I make my
decision, go into the storage room, kill everyone in it, and use the chemicals
on me.
It’s then that I’m thankful that
most things in places like this are flammable and have things to start fires
with, so I use them to destroy everything else in the room and start a fire. After
that’s done, I start clearing out the rooms, and in one of them, I find a face I
recognize, a normal woman who was more perverted than I was, now dead after
trying to prostitute herself to superhumans. She was told the low survival rate
for doing so, but she didn’t listen. Idiotic whore. This is what they all are.
I hardly know the woman, and yet, I’m angered by the sight of her somewhat
recent death.
As I go from room to room, I begin
to revel in the slaughter more than I should. I break limbs and use the bodies
of the whores and clients alike as weapons against one another, and find it
more fun when the superhumans survive several fatal blows, so I can hit and
stab them more until they die. That’s right. Cry and beg for mercy, but don’t die
so easily. I want to make sure you all suffer for what you’ve done! Each of
these perverts deserves to die a painful and slow death. They’ve enjoyed
themselves enough and have to pay the price!
The chemicals I’ve used on myself
begin to make me feel similar to being drunk, but I don’t mind right now. It
enhances the pleasure of all this killing I’m doing, especially on those who have
particularly changed their bodies for this line of work. These are women with
broken jaws, multiple breasts, and holes, and there are men with multiple orifices,
tongues, and even tentacles, so they can feel an increased sense of pleasure. I
know that not all of them are here willingly. Some people have been mutated and
tied or chained to beds and walls against their wills. Given their condition, I
kill them to end their suffering, since freeing them wouldn’t do much to free
the Hell they’re living in. Just like all pleasures, the killing of everyone on
this floor is over when I want more, so I finish spilling chemicals and alcohol
all over the building to ensure its destruction, and watch it burn from a nearby
outside rooftop.
Watching the building burn fills my
head with fantasies of how I killed so many people to the point where I feel
like touching myself. Uncontrollably, I do, until I remember that these people
were just like me. My desire to pleasure myself turns to disgust and a desire
to kill myself. The hangover from the chemicals makes me throw up, and again, I
remember my family and my regrets. I want it to end. I just want my life to
end. Please make it all end! After the effects of the hangover are negated by
my body’s healing, my state of mind is cleared.
I remember there’s one last place
to burn to ensure the last hideout of perversion I know of is erased from the
city. It’s almost over. After that, I’ll find a way to end it all. I know I won’t
see my family after I die, but I deserve to die as much as every other pervert I
killed. It’s the right thing to do.
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