According to all official records, Rejuve Day was a resounding success.
Hundreds slept rough outside the Rejuve Clinics, eager to embrace their new childhood. Yet these would have to wait, for the first nineteen hours of Rejuve Day were spent caring exclusively for the elderly or critically ill. Medicalos were paraded in front of cheering crowds, proudly holding their hands aloft so all could see the silver 'M' gene-branded into their fur. They were interviewed by representatives of the Broadcast Guild, who made their names, faces and stories known to every household. After these came the Voluntaras, typically a few years older and less heartwarming to see, but nevertheless ripe for propaganda. The Royal Slaver Company offered to fund sixty-four free Rejuvenations, distributed as part of a lottery. Others still could always obtain a new childhood by selling themselves into slavery. This led to a perfectly choreographed display where a newly rejuved woman of eleven was left bouncing up and down with joy upon discovering she had been purchased by the Governor's wife, and would now be joining the First House as a waiting girl. The record did not count how many were inspired by such story to surrender themselves to be stock for the Royal Slaver Company, nor how many of those gullible fools would spend their new lives as sweatshop workers, hazard-workers or sex slaves.
Nor, it seems, did anyone find time to cover the massacre in Blister. If anyone thought to press the matter, they might find some admission of higher-than-average crime took place there on the evening of Rejuve Day. Certainly, the breach of the outer dome could not be hidden, but any notion that it was something other than structural failure due to lack of maintenance was clearly a conspiracy theory.
This was how Rejuve Day on Taviksaad entered history as a great leap forward, and how the bloody massacre of seven hundred men, women and children was quietly forgotten in the name of progress.

In the inner conflict between risking an unauthorised trip to the latrine and disobeying his master, Skal's bladder had the casting vote. The residence was silent as he briefly explored until he found what he needed, and it was silent on the way back. He was clearly alone, and remained so for some time after. Long enough, certainly, for his courage and hunger to prompt another trespass. For all Kadan's rank and title, he lived poorly. The kitchen was stocked mostly with alcohol and ration-packs. It wasn't like fresh food was hard to come by anymore; even 'gang scum' like Skal got fresh meat on a semi-regular basis. For now, his dining options consisted of grey packets of mush, with even freeze-dried premades a distant luxury. He ate one and a half rations, saving the remainder in his room for later, and even dared to take a swig out of an open bottle. It turned out to be distil - flavourless spirit that existed just to get drunk. That caught Skal by surprise; only the poor and the desperate sunk that low.
Morning was almost over when Kadan reappeared, and at the worst possible moment. Emboldened by his repeated explorations of the residence, and with ablution, food and hunger all satisfied, he'd turned to his final need; resistance. Kadan had a weapons safe, but he kept his kitchen knives unsecured. Skal was still in the kitchen, blade in hand, when the front door bolts clacked open. Panicked, he threw himself against the dividing wall that split the kitchen from the living area and held the knife up and close. Kadan's footfalls were irregular, but drawing inexorably towards the kitchen. As he crossed the threshold, Skal swung the blade with every ounce of strength he had. The edge skittered over Kadan's armour, built to deflect just such an attack, and before Skal could recover he was smashed to the ground by an overhead blow.
"Should have seen that coming. That one's on me," Kadan growled as he dragged the stunned boy out into the living room. He found several lengths of rope in a storage box and tied a length to each of Skal's wrists while he was too hurt to struggle. There was an art to binding people safely, and fortunately for the Penitatas, Kadan had learned it.
As his senses returned, Skal was lifted up towards the exercise bar bolted to the ceiling, and before he could begin to struggle one hand was already bound. He fought back with what little strength he had, but he soon realised that he had no choice but to grip the bar and take his own weight, or else be left dangling by the wrist. Now, hanging bare and helpless, he felt rope looped around his ankles. When he tried to pull away the reward was a violent tug back into place and the sharp crack of a rod across the offending foot.
With a final jolt of the ropes, Skal was bound. The ropes around his feet pulled so tight he could barely hold the bar, and as he hung facing the entrance he had no idea what Kadan was doing until the tell-tale sound of a swinging rod split the air.
"Tail up!" Kadan ordered, and the Penny barely had a chance to obey before the rod cracked across his backside. He gave a sharp yelp as the blow made him rock in his bindings, yet before he could recover a second stroke landed, catching him at the vary base of the tail and evoking a howl of pain. Kadan wasn't pulling the strokes, and the third brought tears to the boy's eyes. The fourth, diagonally across the others, pushed him over the edge into open sobbing. 
Four more strokes left their red welts across his backside before Kadan turned his attention to the boy's thighs. They were quick, snapping blows that caught the flesh with the tip of the rod, leaving shorter welts with their own distinct burn. 
"N-no mo-ore!" Skal wailed as his grip failed. It was a short drop, barely an inch, but it meant all his weight was now on the wrists, not his hands. He scrabbled to pull himself back up, but every time he came close another strike to the thigh or backside would make him slip again. 
With the Penny's rear thoroughly caned, Kadan stalked around to his front and began again. The rod began low, working up Skal's left thigh, landing irregularly spaced strokes and changing angle or overlap seemingly at random. Being able to see when the blow was coming somehow made it all the worse, and Skal quickly decided it was best to close his eyes and bawl, praying that the punishment would be over soon.
The punishment ended with a dozen strokes across the front of each thigh, and a final swat directly to the crotch. That one at least was pulled, but it still had enough force to make the helpless Penitatas yowl and whimper. 
"I need to shower and sleep", Kadan growled to his sniffling charge. "You are staying right here. If your sobbing wakes me up, or I have to clean up after you, then we'll do this all over again."
Skal could only manage a wordless blub in reply. It had to be a cruel joke, right? His arms were already tired, and even with the caning over it was hard to keep hold of the bar. He wasn't being left here for hours... 
The sound of the shower stopped. Skal listened to the soft thud of footpaws on the panel floor, and the click of an internal door. After that, the sound of snoring.
Skal did the only thing he could - he dropped his chin into his chest, and wept.

Somehow, Skal had slept, or more likely passed out from exhaustion. He came around to the sensation of cold metal being run across his chest and stomach. His blurry vision cleared to reveal Kadan, stripped to the waist. The Enforcer's body was covered in wounds, old and new; stab wounds, bullet wounds and surgical scarring turned his chest fur to a rough, messy patchwork. None of that caught Skal's attention, fixated as he was with the service knife moving slowly across his stomach. 
"My father taught me that hope is important to an interrogation," Kadan stated, letting the knife draw a smile under the boy's belly-button. He pressed it just hard enough to leave a scratch in the skin, but not enough to cause harm. "the prisoner has to believe there's a life beyond captivity, and they have to want that life. Your kind always go too hard, crippling your victims and laughing about how they're going to die. Why should anyone ever cooperate with you?"
He let the knife work its way down through the black diamond of fur on the boy's abdomen, prompting a breathless sob from Skal. "You know I won't kill you, and you know that all wounds can be healed, but in the moment you still have to endure. You have to live with the consequences for years afterward. So I don't have to play around with the lesser stuff. I can go straight to the kind of torture that robs men of their will to live."
The Penitatas screamed. He began to thrash wildly, mad terror giving him new strength. He shrieked and babbled for several long seconds before falling limp and wailing, tears pouring down his muzzle far more than they had during his caning. 
Kadan let him cry. He watched as the howling gave way to blubbing, and then to soft, juddering breaths. Satisfied, he placed the knife well clear and released the boy's ankles. Kadan waited until Skal acknowledged what he'd done before standing up and bracing the Penny with his body, using his knee and side to take the five year old's weight so his hands could be freed. It was an awkward manoeuvre, but he managed to steer Skal down onto one of his old chairs, where the boy sat with his arms raised and shaking. The Enforcer stood over his charge, scowling as he considered what to do next. His anger was spent, although he doubted the boy had truly been scared into line. At best, he'd bought a few days where the ganger would be scared to step out of line. Despite that, he'd entered with the intent of doing far more than scare him. Try as he might, Kadan struggled to ignore the fact that the Penitatas was a child, at least physically. That grated against Kadan's tattered remnants of a conscience.
He took the Penny's head in a gentle grip to make sure he was paying attention. "Stay out of my room, don't try to leave, and stay away from anything that resembles a weapon. Understand? Good. Then you can move about as you like. Get some food, or sleep. Watch the Broadcast if you care about that." 
The boy gave nods of understanding, but didn't move. Kadan shrugged and headed for the kitchen, drawn to the freezer where he found an ice cold bottle of distil. He managed a single pull from the bottle before a chirrup from the bedroom made him bark a curse, and pausing only to grab a ration bar he stormed towards the sound. "This had better be good!" he snapped as he recovered the device from where he'd flung it the night before. 
The voice on the other end was Bast. "Lord Governor is coming at sun-up tomorrow, thought you should know. You're on-board for the freakshow tonight as well." 
"Not tonight. Pull extra bodies from Wrongside or Merchant, they know the district." 
An awkward pause followed. "Sir, half of Wrongside is dead or wounded, and everyone in Merchant is pulling double-shifts cleaning up Blister. We lucked out here, but we need all boots to the deck."
Kadan nodded to himself. Just listening to Bast made him tired, and the word 'Blister' made his stomach lurch. "Alright, fine. But do me a favour: pay some scruffs to spread the word around Vices that we've got an open kill-order tonight after what happened with Blister."
"Do we?"
"Of course not, but if the drunks believe it, then the Gods might bless us with a quiet night!" 
Bast chuckled, "I'll give a fine donation to Risik's temple if you're right. See you in a few."
Kadan had one clean uniform left, but his armour was broken and bloody. He struggled into it, stuffed the last two days worth of fatigues into a duffle bag and downed three shots worth of spirit. As he waited for the burning to pass he caught sight of Skal's clothes, discarded on the washing pile. He put those in the bag as well. 
Armed and armoured, with half a litre of drink inside him and about the same in hand, Kadan found Skal where he'd been left, nude on the chair, staring at the wall. He bumped the boy's arm with the bottle, "I've got a rough night ahead. I want to come back to some fucking quiet, not a stabbing." He sloshed the cheap drink at Skal, who accepted the offering and gulped down more than his child's physique could handle. "That's all yours if you want it. No trouble from here on out, yeah?" 
Without waiting for an answer, Kadan left through the front door. Vices was waiting, and every Enforcer on duty prayed that, for once, the sinful souls stayed home.

When the work shift ended, the labourers and servile classes came to Vices. Whatever one's pleasure, be it games, intoxicants or sexual release, the district was happy to provide... so long as you could pay. 
The Enforcers were out in force every night, and eternally overstretched. Violence was a nightly affair, and it was the duty of the Guild to ensure that the bloodshed stayed within the rough houses and sparring pits. It never did; Vices eased the pain of gangers and mercenaries as much as the honest worker, and so every night hated enemies found themselves in close proximity, with predictable results. 
Kadan started at the commons, as it paid to be seen out early. This war the safe, outward facing side of Vices, with easy going musicians, stall performers and knick-knack salesmen dominating the area. Children, regular and Rejuve ran between the groups, lost in their own simple joys and unheeding of parental cries. The real children, 'Kindern' as they were known in other Rejuve societies, would give a yelp and bolt away when Kadan drew close. The Rejuves stood their ground, having long outgrown the horror stories they were raised on.
Beyond the periphery, Vices truly earned its name. First bars, then the fighting establishments, gambling and then brothels, before returning towards decency on the way back to Merchants. Whilst the main thoroughfare always retained a veneer of standards, taking the back paths or ascending the gantries to the suspended buildings would quickly reveal the foul core of the district. 
The first stop was Ukoon's Food and Board. They were a family business that drew a steady crowd and paid a premium to have the Enforcers be seen on sight. As Kadan stepped into the warm, dark interior a young boy glanced towards him, startled and rushed forward to issue a hasty greeting. "Welcome, sir! My masters are honoured by your visit!" 
The boy bent forward, head raised to bare his throat in supplication, and tail pressed flat against his legs. Kadan noticed the silver P on the back of each palm. "Do you wish to be seated, sir?" the Penitatas continued with forced eagerness.
"Just checking your clients are quiet," Kadan answered. He gave a sweeping look across the widely spaced tables and the bar, but as usual nothing of note disturbed the business. With his obligation met, his mind turned to the child still waiting before him. "I'm asking for a friend, how do they treat you? Do they beat you?" 
The boy shifted awkwardly, his muzzle turned towards the floor as he whispered, "they caned me when they found out what I did. Still hurts. I have to go or they'll beat me again." Kadan took the hint and waved him off. After watching him fetch and fuss a few tables, he made a note on his duty pad and went in search of trouble. 
Trouble, of course, was easy to find. Only an hour in, three reports of violence had been circled, and the Enforcers did what they always did - crack heads and drag the bodies to the cells. This early, almost everyone scattered at the first hint of black armour, but third team had scored a haul off the upper gantries when a local woman took a squat, pissed in the doorway of a drug lounge and blacked out. Everyone else was walking behind the wave, stepping through the spilt fluids and after-smoke. Slowly, like a frog in a pot, Vices was being brought to boil. 
Next stop for Kadan was the Doll House, home to Lady Sin. It wasn't signposted; the property squatted in the shadow of more reputable dens of prostitution, lest its frontage lower the tone. The alley leading to it reeked of bodily fluids both foul and enticing, drawn both from the property itself and those adjacent. Kyyreni had a strong sense of smell, and despite Kadan's hatred of the place the aroma of a hundred couplings made his loins stir.
The bouncer was a Daysider, orange furred and armed with a boarding gun that the Enforcer wished was llegal to own. He was greeted by a barely-legal woman of twelve, a Dawnsider whose bones were clear beneath her brown and grey fur. Dyes and styling had made her look as pleasurable as possible, and the smell of her drug-induced Season made Kadan's meat poke free of his sheath, but nothing could hide the dead glaze of her eyes. "Welcome to the Doll House. How may we satisfy your desires?"
"By fucking off!" Kadan spat as he shoved the woman aside more harshly than she deserved. The bouncer stirred, but thought better of taking issue. 
Beyond the entrance, through several black curtains and locked scarlet doors, Kadan emerged into the bar area. The young women behind the bar were drugged like the greeter, slaves whose potential fertility was being bled away for the sake of increasing their desirability. But they weren't the draw for the customers lurking in the shadowy booths - the Doll House got its name from the slaves on the stage. Boys and girls alike, though mostly the latter, all dressed only in loincloths and stood demurely with their hands on their stomachs, backs out. All the children had no markings, but the gaps in their lineup spoke of missing slaves.
Moving with purpose, Kadan strode towards the private rooms. The doors alternated colours, red and grey, all secured with electronic locks. He picked the first grey door on his left and used his Guild card to enter the darkened space beyond. It was a cramped room dominated by a two way mirror, and through it Kadan saw a 'traditional' Doll House performance. 
The girl in question was a Kyyreni, as most were. Dawnsider, as most were. Her performance was recorded for security reasons, as her private show was a hair's breadth from sexual abuse. But that was the trick - the man in the room never touched her. She lay on the bed, exposed and vulnerable, touching herself as he instructed while he masturbated an arm's length away. Sexual abuse of a minor, even a slave, was a guaranteed Y-rep under the new legal codes, and before was likely to end in execution. But there was no law against a minor pleasuring themselves in private, and if they invited someone to watch that too was legal. 
It shouldn't have been legal, but Kadan didn't get to write the laws; he just punished those who broke them. 
He left the observation room seething, filled with the desire to hurt someone, but Lady Sin was connected - he had his doubts the Enforcers could act even if she was breaking the law. Lost to this internal anger he almost walked into a patron leaving the opposite room, who upon seeing the Enforcer ran for his life. Kadan paused, confused by the man's terror, and seeking answers he pushed the red door open. Beyond was the usual arrangement - a tiled corner with shower and latrine, the right wall dominated by the two-way mirror, and of course the large bed with chair facing. On the bed was a child, a girl of three with a 'P' on her hand. She was bare, lying away from the door. The sheets were so thick with blood they were almost black. 
She was legally an adult. 
"Would you kindly step aside? One of my girls needs tending to," Lady Sin said, calm and serene as could be. The sheer jarring nature of her tone was enough to knock Kadan off balance. He stumbled aside as two young men took the girl away. She wasn't dead. Somehow, she wasn't dead, but her eyes were lifeless and her crying silent. Meeting her eyes almost floored the Enforcer, but he forced the image from his mind and rounded on Lady Sin.
"Everything is in order, I assure you. Would you like to take our security records? The master drive, naturally." sure enough, proper as ever, an encrypted drive was presented with an eager flourish. There would be nothing illegal on there. Immoral, indecent, and depraved enough to drive a man to suicide, but nothing illegal.
Kadan refused to take it. The drive would make its own way to the Guild.
Outside, in what passed for fresh air, Kadan found a familiar face approaching through the addled crowds. "I tried to stop this, Bast. I fought this. I knew that fucking bitch would do this so I fought it! And I lost..."
Bast shook his head in sympathy. "You did all you could, sir. Can't ask for more. Why don't you off-board now? Go clear your head?"
For the rest of the night, Kadan did just that. He went to a rough house, one he suspected was popular with Lady Sin's clients and found a Daysider who wanted to swing at an Enforcer. When he left, the youth was beaten unconscious, skull fractured and ribcage stamped in. Then Kadan topped up on pollen, smoked cheap herbs until the inner voice stopped screaming, and stumbled home with the district's cheapest spirits in hand. 
Skal spent the next morning with a knife in his grip, sat beside Kadan's blacked out body, imaging how easy it would be to end the bastard once and for all. 
For better or worse, the Penny didn't go through with it.