General

The bullet mark on the cold concrete wall was the end of her, and the end of her was the end of me. How can people kill so many with so little regard for their mothers and fathers, for their brothers and sisters, for their children? They take these manmade weapons and destroy what God gave. They cannot believe. Those who kill, who destroy, I tell you, they have no higher power. For with God we show our vulnerable hearts, we are willing to cry and ask for what we need. Bullet marks. Bullet marks. Every one of them a person.

General

Each bullet mark was a scar of a past we mostly forget. In this era of peace and safety, it is honestly not easy to imagine how those wars all got started. We love each other, we see that a harm to one is a harm to all, no man is an island. Yet there they are on the walls of even the most sacred of historical cities, the signs of a savage past we evolved past for good.

General

When we found the baby factory we took each rapist and made a fresh bullet mark on the wall. We did the same to every last member of their organisation. Some evil detritus needs exterminating and that's our job. We exterminate human-vermin.

General

The scar there? It's a bullet mark. It's old though. It hurt like hell at the time but now... now it's scar tissue I hardly ever notice anymore.