Cybernetic: The Lost

Godwin Tulla stepped off from the shuttle into the cold winter air of Pas Dammim, the capitol of Canaan, hefting a single bag over his shoulder and marching out into the busy street.
He looked like a vagrant, with worn out fatigues and a military issue high-collared greatcoat; coupled with his unkempt hair simply adding to his homeless appearance.

Canaan was said to be a place to start again and make something of yourself; the idea appealed to Tulla, he hoped that there were some devils of his that he could finally lay to rest.
He had money despite his ragged appearance, his...former employers had paid him well, of course they hardly expected him to survive employment. He stopped in a small cafe somewhere out of the way of the bustling main street; coffee would help warm his bones and his voyage had been a long one.

"Afternoon sah!" a boisterous little round man loudly called from behind the counter, "What can I get for you tahday?"
"Coffee. Black." Tulla grunted in reply
"Sure sure, right away sah!"
Tulla took a seat at a small table and waited, absentmindedly staring out the large storefront window.
When the barista returned with his coffee he sat down with Tulla, intent on chatting.
"So my good man, are you a soldjah perhaps?" He inquired rather ham-handedly
Tulla stared at his coffee then back at the barista and sighed, "I...guess. I served in the military and ...participated in the wars."
"Ah ha! I knew it! You have this air about you, like you've seen things." He clapped Tulla on the shoulder, "You sah, have my thanks for your service at least! Don't worry about payment, its on the house!"
Tulla forced a smile and thanked him, continuing to sip on his beverage.
"My good sah, if you don't mind the inquiry, which wars did you see action?" The pudgy barista asked hopefully.
Tulla considered his words, "During the War for Survival and...the Corporate Rebellions..." He stared sadly back down at his coffee, remembering a time long since ended.
Even the oblivious barista was aware of the effect recollection was having on the man and quickly changed the subject, "Soldjah's blood runs deep in my family. The first recruits of the 1st Fleet! Yes sah! A proud martial history!" He smiled wider (something Tulla didn't think was possible), "Some may not think so, but we owe a lot to you boys. You should know that." He stood up and offered Tulla his hand, "Eduardo Bessene sah, at your service."
Tulla took it, "Godwin Tulla." He offered a polite smile.
Eduardo nodded and went back to work.

Tulla left the shop feeling warmer and, despite the pushy socially ignorant barista, he felt a bit better about himself. Even if he didn't feel like anyone deserving of praise, he certainly couldn't deny it was a welcome change to the disdain most Rebellion veterans are treated with.
It was getting late, Tulla decided it would probably be best to sleep in one of the alleyways for the night and seek out some temporary housing in the morning. He wandered down an isolated alley setting his pack on the ground, intending to use it as a pillow.
He looked around, seeing the occasional homeless laying around or unsavory individuals walking with purpose onto the main street.
"Hey!" Tulla turned around to the voice calling out from behind him, he was barely able to react as the butt of the pistol connected with his temple and he crashed to the ground.
"Just who the hell do you think you are? Crashing in my alley without paying rent?" The man was well dressed and strong looking with a wicked looking pistol and two large goons standing at his sides.
"Rent? From the homeless?" Tulla was disoriented and trying to concentrate on his head wound, blood was running freely from his temple.
"Yes. These nice folks here are customers." He talked slowly and deliberately, mocking Tulla as if he were a simpleton. "You, my friend, are not a customer. You are a squatter and you got to pay the price."
The well-dressed man lowered his pistol and shot Tulla in the knee, dropping him back onto the floor, "He's all yours boys, make sure you beat him good. I've had a bad day and I want to feel better."
"No! Please don't!" Tulla pleaded as he clutched at his ruined leg.
The men only laughed, "Begging for mercy is a waste of words with boss Linus." One of the giant bodyguards grunted with humor in his voice.
"Hey boss, how bad can we beat him?" The other asked
Linus scratched his chin and shrugged, "You can kill this one if you want Percy, he looks like a veteran." Boss Linus poked the barrel of his pistol toward the greatcoat that Tulla was wearing, "Only 3rd Fleet wears something like this." He looked Tulla in the face unable to keep the smile off his own, "So you're from that mad dog outfit? Its about time someone came around and put you down."
"Please, please don't do this, just...please." Tulla begged, fear nearly choked his voice, "I'm trying my hardest not to kill you." He sobbed.
The boss burst into raucous laughter, holding his sides, "That was the best bluff you could come up with? Really?"
Percy followed up by kicking Tulla in the stomach, his partner did the same to Tulla's face.
The boss walked over to the weeping Tulla and grabbed him by the hair, placing his pistol under Tulla's chin, "Alright you piece of shit, I've had the worst day of my life; I got boss Cassar himself telling me that I better get my shit together or its my ass. Now I'm sure absolutely none of this means shit to you, but I just wanted you to know that your shit life ended with purpose." He smiled darkly, "I feel a lot better now."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Tulla whispered, placing his finger on his neck.
Linus laughed and brutally hammered the butt of his pistol into Tulla's nose, enjoying the loud crack of it breaking.
"Hey Percy, Redden! It sounds like he's real sorry! I guess he gets to get the shit kicked out of him a bit longer before I splatter his brain across the alley!"
Percy guffawed like the trained ape he was, lifting the now silent Tulla by the collar off the floor and cocked his fist for some devastating head trauma.
Tulla was no longer crying but looked far away, as if slightly confused. Percy was irritated that he no longer looked afraid, grabbing Tulla and forcing him to look Percy directly in the eyes; he wanted to force the coward back into the moment to make this fun again.
What he wasn't expecting was the look of confusion turning to blind, psychotic rage. Percy's perceptions became confused, he could barely see anymore and he realized he couldn't breathe.
The pain was indescribable, the air in his lungs had been ignited and he burned from the inside out.
The humor had drained completely from Linus's face as he watched one of his henchmen suddenly drop to the ground with smoke dribbling out of his mouth and nostrils.
Tulla stood now, despite the grievous gunshot wound to his leg; his face was twisted into mask of hate.
Redden, to his credit, reacted faster than anyone could have expected considering his size; he pulled a pistol but before he'd even gotten it out of his coat Tulla was on him. The maddened veteran drove his thumbs into Redden's eyes, plucking them out quickly and efficiently before dropping low and punching the big man in the stomach; his organs and spine exploded out from behind him.
A blood spattered Tulla stood up and locked eyes with boss Linus and for the first time in Linus's life, he was unable to run away. He couldn't even speak, no matter how hard he tried.
Tulla smiled as Linus was burned alive carefully and deliberately, unable to scream his torment. The smile quickly turned back to homicidal psychosis after Linus expired.

The vagrants who remained were all frozen with terror as Tulla turned to them with predatory eyes.