Faith, once long ago, was not belief in the unproven as understood today but rather the affirmation of unshakeable conviction in matters one knew in logic and emotion alike to be indisputable truth. For "Bobby", the humble common name by which he chose to walk among the dhimmi and the kafir, his faith rested in the singular perfect justice of one God and the need to find peace by submitting to his will. For it is God's will that man be free to choose, free to sin, free to be righteous, and free to enjoy the rewards and suffer the punishments alike of our decisions.
Faith sustained his past, his person, his purpose within the artificial prison enveloping his immutable soul. Immaculate faith shielded his mind against the predation of latex and foam hell programmed to behave in subservience to evil. Although he could only scream with rightful hate internally at the vulpine caricature attempting to impose an alien sexuality and rejected psychology on his being, his self could not be poisoned by trinkets forged with the knowledge bequeathed to man and spirits by the Adversary. Even if all humanity turned on him for endeavoring to rescue them, his God would not forsake His champion.
As he regarded through the window of plasticine eyes the lewd puppetry of his fellow condemned, he could at least take smug satisfaction that fate proved him correct against the petulant efforts of preternatural beings to assert themselves by deigning to punish him. Might makes right, no? But the machinations of fate instead validated his grudge against the sorcerers and enchanters of this world completely. The invisible attempts of those who attempt to rewrite and govern destiny to render him a helpless strawmen instead never failed to affirm that he had a point.
Heiresses effectively bought off of their human, individual rights to the identities and histories they were born with by vulgar money, and furthermore abusing their newfound wealth to pervert the justice system. To kill a man for executing an identity murderer because his brainwashed toys pay would only affirm that the old cripple was a toxic mind motivated primarily by lust and an infatuation with power after all.
Press outlets, content as cormorants in their ignorance, report the most superficial story in the most yellowed, self-promoting way to shock readers and swell their revenue. It would never matter to the indolent, simplistic and simplified minds around Bobby that immortality among other sorcery never solved human problems in a meaningful way. This fast, easy way out cheapened their experiences, invalidated the full spectrum of their lives' various challenges, and separated them from true enlightenment that a spell of transformation, a hex of pollution could provide. Faith informed "Bobby" that the dying children would be accounted for in the paradise of the hereafter which centuries as amoral fey would forever damn them from receiving.
These childishly basic rationalizations for eliminating the self, destroying minds, and imposing on the freedom bequeathed to all men by God had no means to assert themselves other than by the doctrine of "might makes right." And that is why Bobby found himself cocooned in living latex. It is why he years before suffered a durance in the form of a centauress, a kitsune child, a leonine djinn, a sculpture of living wood, and a glass minotaur. And his kindred in higher still places are why every such unwarranted molestation was undone eventually and the perpetrator lain low, surrendering his head to the one true God of men while the heathen powers wailed impotently in their realms, gnashing ghostly teeth at the continuing onset of their declining relevance as God's truth prevailed against their duplicitous nostrums and freed their thralls from delusion.
Bobby's meditative ruminations were interrupted again the impassioned sigh of his false shell. The depraved master claimed another pair of thralls. A yellow, waifish plaything glittering with flecks of iridescent reflective plastic who sang silly songs to amuse her harem mates and knew no more of the cultured arias she had been trained to recite. Beside her, clapping and cheering along like a good big sister a purple, portly latex fox grown well over the confines of her male undergarments allowed herself to be fully subsumed by her role as a body type trophy never again as far as could be told to build his body competitively. The every shift of petrochemical flesh before Bobby testifying to a soul made by God rendered into a resource for an appetite incapable of empathy.
Very well, but let might make right and wrong as well. Let might make everything, and those who live by the sword perish by it too. including the undoing of the unjust and the brazen defiance of the unseen spirits and gods vying with their dueling pens to assert control over destiny. Bobby had his own guardians, his own protective consciousness to empathize where his peers on this depraved world celebrating decadence as salvation could only persecute. The cold hatred would sustain him.
"Everyone in the world can give their opinion except you.
Everyone's world should be enjoyed and not nitpicked except yours.
You don't have any say in the matter.
Nothing you say matters. Nothing you do matters. You're a cog in the machine.
You have no choices except to endure."
This is the edict of the powers enabling the existence of trinkets that lead to the state of Bobby and his compatriots in bondage. The hypocritical, arrogant proclamation of the forces of convenient, no fault transformation that he and his had to move out of the way. Well no. It was time for them to move. For them to be rendered powerless afterthoughts like the capricious children they had the temerity to judge their victims as being.
For every violation of consciousness... for every shirk foisted upon him by this scoundrel he would exact a toll in a severed vein and nerve bundle. Inshillah, the heathen's neck would be struck.
But the designs even of a protective, conservative deity may span far and make use of the most unlikely individuals to serve as the instruments of justice. To rectify the inequities before him, perhaps Bobby would be required to make... compromises. For people whose authority over themselves were appropriated to create slaves in substance and spirit, maybe... maybe it would be worthwhile.
The inflated casing inside the red vixen carapace reverberated with the frequency of a distant ring.