RENEGADES OF EXCESS RAPTURE WEAPON TEAMS (NSFW)

The ones who fall hardest always had the furthest to fall. There is something the ordained houses understand, in their centuries of ritual and restraint and enforced devotion, that they have never once said aloud: that suppression is not the absence of desire. It is desire, pressurised. Stored. Tended in secret, growing with every year of cold dormitories and prescribed prayer and the particular loneliness of a body treated as a vessel rather than a self. The women who leave - the ones who choose to leave, which is the only kind that ends up here - don't arrive at excess gradually. They arrive at a sprint, twenty years of accumulated hunger hitting open air all at once, and what comes out of that is not liberation so much as detonation. The Rapture Weapon Teams are what the detonation looks like when it has somewhere to aim. They came from high walls and low voices and habits that covered everything the cult has since uncovered. The armour is minimal now - barely armour at all, more a