Commander Hoffen of Foxtrot | #34 | Male | Alleged Schnauzer/Wolf cross | M: Kämpe, Hero, Zadolt, Kordelas

Fangs had ground deeper into the back of his skull. Maybe the young dog was right, not only a Cull could fight a Cull. Yet Hoffen was a poor excuse of what was supposedly Beta's finest dogs. He didn't belong there, he never had.

He had always been different, that's what he had been told. That he could make a difference. Hoffen was nothing but a coward, he couldn't live up to those expectations. They were wrong. He was just a poor excuse for dog, a poor excuse for a soldier. Long ago, when the presence of Beta had faded from his mind along with the blue of his eyes, he had thought himself free. Maybe he was the opposite. Apathy was something he craved.

Yet, he was a murderer and a coward, and it would be a fitting death for a dog such as he.

Hoffen waited for the fangs to pierce through the thick layer of skin around his neck and into the soft veins and arteries, limp. He would bleed out on the dusty streets, killed by one of his own, no, the life he had so desperately wished for himself long ago.

Yet the final blow never came. The dog, his attacker had simply let go of him, rounded amber eyes staring into Hoffen's own in shock, understanding almost. He hadn't known.

And then a metal claw that only could belong to a Cull struck the side of his skull with jarring force, blacking out his vision for a few seconds. That was all it took for the ringing in his ears to overwhelm him and distort his senses.

Kämpe?

It was impossible, the part of his brain that still belonged to beta screamed that he was worthless, that she should have let him die. It was so loud his skull throbbed with the sounds of it. His transmitter flashed red, attempting to seize control of his mind and body. He was frozen in a silent struggle of wills, and even as he battled the invisible assailant with his mind, Hoffen came to a realization: the Chief Cull was acting of her own voilition.

And she was angry, violently so. That couldn't be possible, shouldn't be. Hoffen knew that all of a Cull's kills were detatched, impersonal. Unless-he had known something was off, but never could have thought her mechanical failures to such an extent.

As his vision began to clear, his jaw dropped at the sight. The dog was still standing, it shouldn't have been possible. The dog's chest and throat was practically flayed beyond recognizable. Bright crimson pooled below him as he choked out something inaudible to Hoffen. The ringing in his ears was too loud. Too loud.

And for the first time in all the years he had known the Cull, she looked afraid. Afraid of herself. Hoffen knew the feeling.

She saw her muzzle curl with words he couldn't hear, and then she was attacked by the other dogs. Somehow Hoffen was on his feet, when did that happen? He couldn't hear anything but the deafening ringing in his own ears. Nothing felt real anymore. He was frozen with the indescision.

"You're feeling emotion... you are not a monster of Beta anymore... not right now... What you've done before... that wasn't you. That was Beta."

Kämpe could feel a sincere, genuine laugh bubbling inside her, a vocalization foreign to her. A chuckle of savage mirth, heartless amusement. The cull willed herself into the cold silence she knew so well.

"I am metal. I have no soul, no heart. Do not attempt to humanize me."

Didn't this Kilo mutt see? Even through these strange flashes of feeling, she still choose Beta. She was a beast, a monster hiding behind her metal plating (now effectively ruined), the cruel blue of her eyes, the orginization that she had become a part of. Although she did doubt her programming was ruined that terribly, she may be able to fight. Something about Beta felt wrong - the death, the blood, the pain. Kämpe knew she might be able to fight, even if she suspected the copper wires threading into her mind, broken and severed though some may be, wouldn't permit such betrayal.

And even with that thought, that cursed, rebellious thought, her brain began to close off into the apathy of Beta. She had missed it. That painless coldness was a blessing - and the Chief longed for it, an escape from reality, from truth. She wanted those lies.

Cowardly.

That was the truth, wasn't it? She was a cowardly monster, and she hated herself for it. She knew she was physically incapable of defying Beta's direct orders, of completely turning against them. But she was sure that she could fight - somehow, someway. But she wanted this torrent of emotion, the pain of the truth, she wanted it to end.

Kämpe wasn't brave enough. She was too far gone, too close to Beta, too longing for her programming. But she let the dogs go. Let them run, against what Beta's wishes may be. She would find them tomorrow, hunt them down, weed out the defective regiment that had become a personal annoyance of hers. Kämpe turned to Hoffen at their departure. Hero had said they met earlier - and the only time he had been gone was when he left to dipose of that Foxtrot soldier. And Hero hadn't been upset - he had been respectful, rather. Toward the cull that should have killed a dog before him - and yet Hoffen had earned his respect, like the Command had with so many other dogs. There was something amiss that lead Kämpe to believe he had committed a sort of treason against Beta by earning the respect of an enemy who he should have killed.

The Chief had suspected Hoffen was different. He lead his regiment, and they followed, and not out of fear. He had memory - Kämpe could remember the training session in which he had spoke of a brother. He had dreams, dreams that haunted his sleep. Yes - he was different.

And she didn't want him dead. Not yet, not now.

"Whatever you did. Whether the removed Foxtrot soldier lives or not - do not tell me. Do not make excuses. I don't want to know."

Kämpe understood that the minute he told her of his betrayal, the minute ther evidence was clear, she would alert Beta. She wanted to - it was her job, her purpose. But this once, just this once, she would choose to look the other way.

And the cull turned, vanishing into the gates of the massive compound, where they might be able to fix her. Her mind. Her pain, her memory. Her broken body.

Her broken self.

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Time skip for Beta only. Beta dogs are skipping ahead two weeks, and will awake in their cells (still shared with their respective cell-mates; if you do not recall who your character is with, let me know). Training will be an agility course - I will set the scene with my next post, so please stand by and do not post until I do. Kilo dogs are still in present time - Zadolt is passed out in the tunnels with Kordelas with him. Spring has alerted Gin. Kilo dogs may not interact with Beta dogs during this time unless you wish to break physics. Please don't do that. We don't want any dogs that can travel to the future.

Spring / Female / 2 / Kilo / Chihuahua / Australian Shepherd mix / #92 / M: Ginger, Maze, Afton, Arrow, Hero, Kordelas, Zadolt

Spring's ears flicked back, confusion gleaming in her bright eyes. Why was Ginger mad at her? She was simply alerting her commander to a potential threat, surely that was acceptable? "Of course, Commander, I'll do my best." The little dog agreed obediently, the same as always. She followed the larger breeds up the tunnel, having to trot to keep up with their longer strides.

Spring's tail wagged slightly in greeting to the other kilo dogs that joined, eyes gleaming with a mixture of poorly hidden worry and more open affection for those in her group. She may have an annoying bark, but Spring loved absolutely everyone and made a point to show it. When she saw someone was upset she didn't hesitate to go over and comfort them in any way possible, when asked to do something, no matter how impossible it seemed, the little Chihuahua/shepherd mox jumped forward to do it without hesition or question. With Spring you were accepted. No matter what. You could be a former enemy and she would walk up to you and tell you that you were one of hers now and that meant you were good. You could threaten her and she would look you in the eyes and tell you calmly that whatever happened she would love you anyway, and she hoped that others would give you that second chance too. The only time she would push you away was if you hurt those she loved... In that case.... Angry tiny dog.

"Hi Maze!" She greeted warmly, blinking up at the bigger dog. "Hi Afton!" She added. "I'm sure everything will be fine with you two and Commander Ginger here! You all are so strong!" She turned towards Arrow and her gaze saddened, turning soft. "Hello Arrow, are you doing okay?" She asked. "You're so brave." She murmured. "I wish I was as brave as all of you! I mean, I have the bravest, strongest, kindest, bestest family in the world! Wait... Is bestest a word? Well, it is now! You're all the bestest!"

The lights snapped on, and Orden's eyes flew open. Instead of lonely concrete, she awoke to the sleeping figures of two other dogs. Ah- Pfiel and Rache, the new cellmates she didn't ask for. A talkative dog-that-was-a-pup and a traumatized soldier who was bound to tear out dog-pup's throat sooner or later once he said something too stupid.

What a fun next few weeks this would be. On the bright side, Rache would likely end up dispose of Frosch pretty soon, so that was one less thing to worry about. Even with Frosch hypothetically out of the picture, concerns were beginning to pile up, as always - Orden knew the failures of Foxtrot and Bravo would result in a change of training. An influx of strictly enforced regulations in rules? A smaller margin for error? Harsher punishment? All were up on the table. Beta liked control, and the two regiments hadn't granted them such power. The lengths they might go to to retain such control was a terrifying prosepct. Orden was a good soldier. She did as she was told. She listened, she didn't do anything wrong. She didn't argue, she didn't fight back. And yet, even so, she was stuck in a regiment of unruly dogs that were going to get her harmed at best, killed at worst.

Could she request a transfer?

Likely not, and she wasn't going to risk her neck trying. Maybe she could convince somebody - somebody oblivous - yes, Frosch might do - to ask, and she could observe what happened. Learn from his inevitable failures, and do better with her own request. Maybe. Orden was starting to not care at this point, as long as she was alive.

She didn't pay any mind to the other dogs when the food dispensers filled her bowl; she ate in silence before exisiting the moment the doors were unlatched and drawn open. Unhappy with the lack of the personal space and alone time she had previously been granted, the collie mix stalked into the outdoor pen, head low, brooding. The weather seemed to have warmed - the air was cool, but the onset of Beta's artificial spring, or rainy season, was in the air. By midday, the air should reach a balanced temperature of somewhere around forty degrees. Cool, but no longer that of winter.

Orden retreated to the farthest end of the pen, pacing along the chain link, occupied in her own thoughts.

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Anfall | Female | idek anymore | Bravo Wolfblood | 21 | M: Adiv, Sabre

Anfall hissed a growl in the back of her throat as the lights stabbed into her brain. As far as Anfall concerned, her eyelids had failed her - what were they for, if not to prolong sleep? Without a doubt, mornings were the absolute worst thing to ever exist. She was always rushed and thrown into some chaotic training excersize before she had even digested her breakfast and had forced her brain to register that it must function.

On the bright side - oh, wait. There was no bright side.

Anfall stretched out her limbs, lips drawn back to reveal jaws widened into a yawn. With a somewhat disgruntled huff, she sat up, vision blurry from sleep. Two sleeping figures were curled up - Sabre, the large wolfblood, and Adiv, the comparatively tiny dog that could likely be measured in milligrams.

Should she wake them? She figured they would get up their own accord anyway. Or they should. If they didn't, that was their loss. Or maybe their removal.

Whatever floats Beta's boat, I guess.

They could figure it out themselves. Anfall wolfed down her meal, intaking likely far too much air to be healthy, before making an abrupt exist to the main pen of Foxtrot and Beta. The air was cool - but not cold. It was a relief; Anfall's short coat didn't prove fun in winter. A dark figure paced the perimeter of the pen - Orden. Of course it was. Too aloof to offer even an acknowledgement of her presence, but Anfall didn't really care. She could do whatever she wanted - the wolfblood really didn't care.

And so the dog just waiting for something to do, somebody to talk to, and dogs to actually get out of their cells. Really, it was a miracle - she was one of the first to the pen. And that should be delivering a crystal clear message to the others still lounging around on a comfortable patch of concrete or whatever else the Anfall thought her teammates to be doing - they ought to get their tails out before the culls came for them, especially if Anfall, the chronically late one was up and somewhat ready for the day.