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> The thing about joining Pax Humanis, is that some don't keep to the terms of the agreement. They want victims, and don't care if they're innocents or not. When this particular waste vent went rogue, well, they found their victims were NOT who they thought they were, the hard way. -- Anon Guest

[AN: Content warning for a narrative from the perspective of a human grease stain. Lots of vile concepts below]

Every now and again, sometimes through pain and stress, sometimes for no reason at all... someone possesses an irresistible dark urge for blood, suffering, and murder. The Alliance knows this, and also knows every last warning sign.

When they are detected, they are given counselling. Help. And an offer.

_If you still desire to kill cogniscent creatures, we can help fulfil that need. There are, despite everyone's best efforts, people who need to die. We have a little list. They never will be missed. In return, you return to us when your services are not needed._

It was an alliance of mutual protection. Those in Pax Humanis protected the Galactic Alliance with themselves and _from_ themselves. In return, the Galactic Alliance gave them everything they needed, and protected them from alternate legal repercussions.

Members of Pax Humanis are rare to begin with. Most are smart enough to recognise this as a good deal.

Alas, there's always _someone_ who thinks they're too special to follow the rules.

And for someone already in Pax Humanis, that's a very dangerous combination. Dangerous for _them_, you understand. Not for everyone else.

Karn had killed their assigned target in _just_ the right way for their needs, but it wasn't enough. The waiting list was so _long_. They needed _more_.

Someone weak. Someone who'd scream _long_ before the hurting started. Someone who'd whimper and beg for just one more minute to breathe. Someone who would be dismissed if they were missed.

Hell, if they were pretty enough, Karn might just have more fun than the blood. With that thought in mind, Karn slipped their leash, cleaned up, and began stalking the streets.

From famine to feast... Karn didn't know where to start. These streets were _loaded_ with tasty morsels just begging to them to happen to their lives. Their short, miserable, dull little lives.

There. The one that bumped into a street shrubbery pot and apologised to it. _That_ one.

Karn started stalking her. Taking in the details. Demure clothes. Trying to hide an obviously luscious body in very plain and concealing gear. Trying to hide from all but Karn, who saw her for what she was.

Just another slut who didn't know it yet.

She noticed him after two blocks. Started to walk a little faster. With a little more desperation. Her head went up, looking for help, but none was coming.

_Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run..._

Scrambling left and right. Not caring for a destination, any more. Just trying to get away. And finding herself in a dead-end alley in the middle of the ghetto dives where nobody else got involved.

"Please..." she panted. Oh, she was _squeaky_. Karn liked the squeaky toys. "Just go back home. Please. You won't like what happens next."

Was that _all_ she had to defend herself with? Pathetic. Perfectly pathetic. Karn was going to rut into her dying corpse until she went stiff and cold. "Go on," he whispered, showing her his knife. "Scream for me."

Such reach. Such range. Such timbre.

Someone almost spoiled the moment by yelling for them both to shut up. Karn wanted to track them down. Afterwards.

He got close. Enjoying her trembling.

"Please," she whimpered. "Just go back home?"

"I am home," he purred. "And in heaven." He put the knife against her rosy cheek. Contemplating whether to cut flesh or clothes first.

"Then I'm not sorry," she said. Suddenly not scared. Suddenly confident. Her hand moved, and he felt something... pull... at the side of his neck.

They had enough time to say, "What?" before the stinging began, and the wet heat started running down their neck. Karn felt it. A perfect slice right through the carotid artery.

She seized their head in both hands. Holding them up by their hair and ears. Suddenly strong. Suddenly... _predatory_. Thirstily watching the light fading from Karn's eyes.

He stabbed at her, and quickly discovered those demure clothes were actually stab-proof armour.

"I told you to go home," she said. "You should have gone home."

As the light left him, he heard her say, "My name is Kren, and I'm your brakes. Now? You're my trophy."

She didn't wait for him to finish dying before she began using his own knife to decapitate him.

[Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@ben_brunner?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Benjamin Brunner</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/white-and-silver-round-device-al01Ad0f_KI?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Unsplash</a>]

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