Savior with Expiration Date

While Luna's uterus is projected on the convenience store facade, the mob is making mural paint from her menstrual blood.

"Look at this bitch's ovaries!" The one-eyed woman stabbed her brush into the mural genital area, "There's a can of demons hatching inside!"

Rule #85: All stigmatization of the Savior is subject to royalties.Luna's swarm of drones is scanning the mural, deducting a liter of cerebrospinal fluid from the author's account for each smear. But at the moment she was more concerned with the small line at the base of the wall - "Bean Witch's Anus Goes Straight to Hell" - addressed to the convenience store mascot doll she'd buried with her own hands.

"You deserve it." Clone Luna-7 licked the acrylic from her fingers, "Father says the masses need excremental creations..."

The real Luna burns a laser pointer through the clone's throat. As the bionic blood splatters onto the mural, the vilified organs suddenly squirm - the mob is horrified to find that their own painted uterine motifs are oozing real menstrual blood, and the painted Luna's elongated tongue rolls away the protesters' dentures.

"Rule addendum." She broadcast to the city, her voice mingling with the sound of the clone's twitching electricity:

"Every satire becomes a diagnosis of the author's death."

Late at night in a warehouse hallway, Luna pauses in front of a mirrored maze. Countless reflections of herself are distorted by the radiation, some with bellies puffed out like pregnant hippos, others with spines pierced out of convenience store price tags. Most lurid of all was mirror number 47, reflecting her entire body with skin replaced with can labels and the date of her mother's suicide etched in the date of manufacture column.

"Surprise!" Jax flashed out from behind the mirror, his penis sheathed in a mask sewn from a clone's scalp, "I brought an audience."

He pressed the remote and all the mirrors turned into live screens. Five thousand convenience store employees were kneeling in the headquarters plaza, laser-engraving her anatomy: ovaries painted as vending machines, breasts as nuclear waste drums, and "Clearance Sale" posters in the place of the brain.

"What a perfect altar." Jax's fingertips roamed her lumbar spine, "Father said when you have a genetic meltdown, we'll make your gallbladder into a..."

Gunfire interrupted the obscene declaration.

Luna watched as bullets penetrated the mirrors, each bullet hole oozing the memory fluid of a different clone. As the fluid from Mirror #13 dripped into her mouth, the walking lights flashed: Luna-22 was gang-raped by a mob and then converted into a vending machine, and Luna-39's uterus was filled with explosives to make a suicide bomber.

"Now vote!" A holographic projection of the convenience store's president suddenly descended, "The savior who chooses to self-destruct receives a 10% discount on redemption coupons!"

The support on the live screen begins to jump. luna's menstruation suddenly spins out of control, and menstrual blood pools on the floor in a counter-attack scenario - she rips off her clone's arm and dips it in blood to paint a giant Codex Luna on the wall:

Article 1: All viewers are automatically accomplices.

Article 2: Those whose imaginations exceed the store's license are subject to the brain cell tax

The mob's smart neck ring began to shrink. Those who had scrawled on the mural of her genitals were currently carving confessions with their fingernails into the walls of their own homes. But the real kill shot was hidden in the braille of the third article of the code-

"When you gaze upon a witch, the witch has taken up residence in your gallbladder."

The warehouse suddenly quakes.

When Luna crashes through the emergency door, she discovers that all the clones from the underground incubator have awakened. Their naked bodies form a human projector that projects the convenience store's top secret in the night sky: the mural in the president's office is made from the very skin of the first Luna, with the names of all the consumers etched at the location of her pubic bone.

"You are my most successful product." Father's voice oozed from the chorus of clones, "Now it's time to bring the version up to date..."

The remnants of Luna-7's body suddenly burst into life, sticking the syringe into her carotid artery. The moment the gene-collapse accelerant surged into her veins, she saw a countdown tattoo emerge on her arm - 11 hours, 11 minutes, 11 seconds left until the system reset.

"Let's play a game." Jax threw in a rope woven from clone eyelashes, "Hang yourself, or watch Mother die again."

The holographic projection switches to the mother's execution site. When Luna sees the barbs on the noose coated in honey, she finally understands the ultimate form of the rule--

Rule #86: When the Savior becomes a totem, she must personally breed the executioner.

The witch on the mural suddenly blinked.

As the mob screams, Luna cuts open her lower abdomen and shoves a clone embryo into her womb. A swarm of drones sprinkled gene-editing powder, and her skin began to turn transparent, all of her insides visible: her heart was a can starter, her liver was plastered with price tags, and her stomach was drenched with three thousand undigested brothers.

"Now," she spreads her legs for the camera, letting the embryo's fluorescent tattoos light up the night sky, "I am your collective womb."

The outer wall of the convenience store suddenly explodes.

As Luna walks out of the rubble, all the murals satirizing her begin to bleed. The blood gathers into a river, and the mobs are horrified to realize that their reflections in the river are gradually turning into Luna's likeness. The first mutant's eyeball popped out of its socket and rolled to her feet where it exploded, revealing a convenience store membership code hidden behind its iris.

"Final chapter of the rules." She stomped on the eyeball and wrote on the scorched earth with the slime:

"All curses, will be returned in the form of fertilized eggs."

A chorus of clones suddenly began to give birth.

The moment each newborn crawls out, an additional blood-colored self-portrait is painted on the convenience store's facade. As the thousandth baby cries rang out, entire city facades formed a giant anatomy of Luna, and each organ was labeled with its true owner- the

The consumer's pancreas, the politician's spleen, the priest's testicles... Finally, at the heart, the real-time EKG of Father's trembling heart surfaced.

"Father," she kissed the stigmatized heart beating on the anatomical chart, "it is now your turn to become mural paint."

Luna laughs in the center of the mirrored maze as the countdown to genetic collapse hits zero. All the reflected Luna begin to devour each other while the mob outside the walls are picking the witch totems off their own skin with their fingernails.

In the final fusion of flesh and blood, she sees the ultimate form of the rules:

The so-called Savior is nothing more than the menstrual tampon of the world's collective subconscious.