She went to the CRC and asked, of all things, to join Pax Humanis. She did not want therapy, though she knew she needed it. She wanted to kill ones like the ones that had done her harm, so that others would not suffer the way she had. -- Anon Guest
Lots of people think that joining Pax Humanis gains one a license to kill. Rene was one of those people. Once they were free from their Deregger homeworld, and free from post-liberation rehabilitation, they sought out the nearest Pax Humanis contact point.
"I need to join," they said. "I want to kill them. Violently. I have dreams of bathing in their blood. I want to hit them over and over with any instrument I can lift until nothing is left but a bloody pulp."
"Rene Phreshaire[1], yes?" said the secretary at the desk. "Late of Greater Deregulation Middling Southwest?"
"Yes," Rene presented their ID tag out of lifelong habit. "I'm dangerous, and I have to be contained. But..." here, they looked both ways and leaned closer, "if I can get a shot at at least one of them? I'll consider it a gift."
"There's an interview process," said the secretary. "This way," Ze indicated a side door and ushered Rene in. There was a comfortable lounge and a waiting official with a datareader.
There was tea. And little cakes.
Rene guessed that this official was also security trained. Their choice of garb was the kind that allowed a lot of freedom of movement. Just in case Rene turned violent, this new person could subdue them.
Sensible, considering what this was an office for.
It was for all those who gloried in blood and death and could not stop by themselves. Or who could not stop so easily on their own.
Rene sat comfortably, and tried the tea. One of the more relaxing blends. All the better to keep them reined in.
"Tell me about blood," said the official, "and what it feels like to kill."
Rene saw just a glimpse of a monitor pattern. The chair was also a diagnostic bed. To see if they were lying. Best to stick to the truth.
"I've never killed before, but I've bled plenty. I'm not afraid of blood. I can't stop thinking about murdering every single one of those [CHAIN OF EXPLETIVES]. I don't care how. I want to hurt them and keep hurting them until there's nothing left of them any more."
The official made some notes. "And how do you plan on reaching them? Do you have a priority list?"
"Hadn't thought that far. Just figured I'd sign up and slaughter the first one you threw me at."
"And then? After they're gone?"
"Probably let myself get locked up for everyone else's safety."
"That's not how it works. Pax Humanis is strictly for psychopathic serial murderers who won't stop no matter if they achieve their goals. However, we can keep you informed of Pax Humanis' progress in regards to your -ah- specific targets."
"I'd like that. Especially after pictures."
"We'll arrange that alongside your much-needed therapy."
[1] Many Deregger expatriots are property and therefore named after the body corporate that owns them. The instant they're free from that oppression, they make a new name. Usually after whatever they're the most grateful for.
[Photo by Roberto Nickson on Unsplash]
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