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Maze | Female | Wolf Husky mix | Foxtrot | 33 | Mentions: Ginger, Zadolt, Spring, Kordelas, Hero
Since leaving Beta Maze had felt dead inside.
As much as she hated it, Beta had been her home. She had a routine, a schedule. Wake up, eat, train, sleep, repeat. She had her regiment, she had Pfeil, her closest friend, and now she had nothing.
Kilo was utter chaos. She'd been there for only a few days and not once had they properly trained. Yes, she got to do what she wanted and didn't need to fear for her next breath, but this lack of... order. She wasn't used to it.
Once she'd been supposed to be an example for the Cull... Ginger... it was strange to call a cull by its name. She was supposed to show the Kilo dogs how to fight, but then some dogs had run away and that had been ruined. Again and again, something happened. Last night was no exception, just this time she hadn't noticed.
She'd been woken up by the loud barking of the smallest dog she'd ever seen, and quickly ordered by the command- Ginger, to follow her through the tunnels to find the missing dogs.
She was starting to hate tunnels. Every time she went through them something was wrong.
She'd watched as the large spotted dog ran off right when they started making their way through the tunnels, chasing after another small dog. Ginger had reacted minutes later, and the look of confusion on the old cull's face was evident. And strange. She'd never seen a cull have emotion other than hate.
A few minutes later the little dog... Spring had started to run off after smelling Zadolt and Kordelas, and she saw a familiar expression on Ginger. That evil programmed expression of hate. It quickly disappeared, but that single look made Maze keep her distance. Yet something in her calmed at the sight.
This was what she was used to, a cull she knew how to handle. But it was the... the freedom she didn't understand.
When they finally spotted the two dogs, Maze only realized that there should have been three when Ginger mentioned that third name.
Hero.
She'd spoken to the dog a few times, enough to feel bad that he was gone, but not sad. Beta had made her so used to loss that the only thing that could hurt her was probably losing Pfeil.
What was he thinking right now?
Commander Hoffen had told her that no one would know she was alive, which meant her friend was probably an empty shell of who he once was.
She had quietly said Zadolts name and walked up to him, her ears twitching back when he told her that Kampe had killed Hero.
Of course. The chief commander, the face of Beta, and the truest form of evil.
If it weren't for Kampe she could still be with Pfeil.
Or maybe there would be an even worse chief who would have forced them to kill each other or watch each other die. It wasn't impossible. Beta had ruined so many lives. Beta was ruining so many lives.
Maze listened quietly to the words of the commander, watching the cull intently. It seemed like the dog was slipping away in the commander. Maybe Maze was the only one who could tell, as she was the only one in Kilo who knew what a true cull was aside from Zadolt, or maybe everyone noticed.
"Then both of you can tell me. On the way back. I don't know how long we have. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, however long, an attack is inevitable" Ginger said, her voice emotionless.
Just as Ginger finished speaking Spring, the little dog asked the commander if she could leave and ran off. Ginger didn't even notice.
"Let's go, Zadolt, you speak first." The commander ordered, turning around and walking back towards the camp, and Maze quickly got up and followed. At a distance, which was a smart move, because after only taking a few steps the cull whipped around, one of her metallic paws lashing out.
"Spring!" Ginger's voice was detached, her eyes emotionless.
Just as quickly, the cull closed her eyes and shook her head, a look of anger and confusion on her face.
For a few seconds, Ginger stood there, breathing with her eyes squeezed tightly together.
"A glitch" Ginger sighed.
"
"Please continue" When the cull turned around continued walking, she looked much weaker. Frail even. |
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Darkseeker
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Zadolt | Male | Australian/Beauceron mix | Formerly of Foxtrot | 28 | Mentions: Kordelas, Spring, Maze, Ginger, Kampe(mentioned), Hero(mentioned) He nodded his agreement, and right after that Spring dashed away. He wasn’t surprised(Kilo was hopelessly undisciplined), but he did flinch when Ginger called after her, her voice full of fury. He jerked towards the wall, his teeth baring of their own accord before he could stop them. The metallic ring of her voice was even more pronounced than what he had come to think of as normal, and it screamed at him that she was dangerous, she was not to be disrespected. And then she paused; she stopped for a few moments, and called it a glitch. Her expression returned to normal, and she told him to continue. He followed two steps behind her, now that she didn’t look like she was going to bite someone’s face off, only slightly shaky; it was easy to accidentally see her as a cull from Beta, to fear her. Too easy. He didn't speak for a while, unsure how to start. Once he got his thoughts in order, he spoke. "I assume Hero was trying to infiltrate Beta," He said, glancing sideways at Ginger. "I saw him leaving, so I decided to follow him, and Kordelas followed me." His tone was calm, monotone. He made sure it did not show his emotions. They were not needed in a report. He recounted what happened, omitting nothing but the fact that Kampe was his sister. "I don't… I don't know how to say this last piece of information." he admitted. "I'll give you some background knowledge first.” It seemed like a good option; and without it, they probably wouldn’t know why it was significant that Kampe was his sister. “Beta usually doesn’t let siblings stay together; most are separated when young, but there was a project to see if we worked better if we weren’t separated. I was part of this project, along with my half-sister. When they chose her to be a cull, they removed us from the program. It was called Project Maximum." He refused to look any of them in the eyes, instead looking at the walls of the tunnel as they passed. He sighed, and spoke. "Kampe is my half-sister. Neither of us remembered this fact until after Tysta died. After you and Arrow ran off, she intended to kill me. Instead, she broke a chip implanted in my chest. The purpose of the chip was to erase some of my memories, which came back after it was broken, I think. I was able to make her remember also, and then I followed you." He had stopped when he told them about the project, but he refused to see their reactions to his words. He didn't want to, either. He just admitted that he was related to the Chief Cull; the one who wanted Kilo dead. He would be surprised if they didn’t kill him. He slightly shifted away from them; it was a defensive move, meant to protect his head and neck if they attacked him. There was a distinct chance they would, and if they did he wouldn't blame them. |
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Darkseeker
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Kordelas (Kor) / Male / Doberman Shepherd / Kilo / I.D: 71 / M: Hero, Zadolt, Kampe, Ginger, Arrow, Maze, Spring The doberman shepherd's brain barely registered what transpired next. Spring fled. Ginger snapped. Another glitch. The sound of her voice growing harsh and metallic kept him from completely zoning out. From completely dwelling on that which he could not change. He vaguely noticed Maze and Zadolts' reaction to the commander's relapse. It didn't happen often, and often came without warning, so he understood the flinching and nervous scents the two formerly-Beta dogs were radiating. The scent didn't last long, as the two got over their surprise, calmed down. Kordelas didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. He'd failed again. His job was to keep the others safe, and he'd failed. He was supposed to be a warrior for Kilo, ready to take on anything Beta would throw their way, and he was a long way off from that. It was all he could do to keep his head up. His paws dragged as he padded through the tunnels, his ears down. Kordelas was directly behind Zadolt, thankful that Ginger had wanted Zadolt to speak first. It gave Kor time to think, time to straighten his jumbled thoughts. Zadolt earned Kordelas' full attention when he admitted that he was related to Kampe. The Chief Cull? Is that why she let them go? But Culls weren't supposed to have emotion.... but both Kampe and Hoffen did. He noticed Zadolt shied away as he spoke. While slightly worried about what Ginger would have to say about that, Kordelas, though shocked, did not intend to harm Zadolt. A bit of anger zipped through him as he thought about how this bit of news would have been recieved in Beta. Probably much like how the male thought it would turn out here. Before Ginger replied, Kordelas shot her an apologetic look to let her know he meant no disrespect by speaking. "We can't help who we're related to," Kordelas' voice was soft, only barely echoing through the tunnels. "It's of no fault to you, Zadolt. And who knows? Maybe the knowledge that you are her brother helps keep her from being a mindless machine." Kordelas' voice sounded slightly harsher than he'd meant it to; he could only hope Zadolt wouldn't take it the wrong way. As a silent sign that he wouldn't attack, Kor sat down. He did his best to not look dejected, though he wasn't sure how good of a job he was doing. The thought that the dead were, well, dead, because of him weighed him down. All he wanted to do right now was run off, mourn for those whose lives had been lost. But there were still survivors in Kilo. Kordelas' eyes steeled as he resolved to protect them as best he could until he drew his last breath, and waited for what Ginger's reaction would be. |
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Lightbringer
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Kilo is now time skipping. I understand that the scene has not come to a natural breaking point, but for the purpose of keeping this moving and alive, I'm going to force us to move on :') Aadya returned with Afton and will have been a prisoner under his guard, while the rest will fall into preperations for a tunnel evacuation, as their home has been found. |
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Lightbringer
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Afton | Male | Kilo | Bouvier/Dalmation/Pyrenees| 82 | M: Aadya, Zadolt, Kordelas, Spring Afton bowed into a stretch, yawning - he had been on watch nearly the entire latter half of the night, and now that the dim artificial lights had flickered on, his shift was over. Someone else should be filing in to take his place watching over the small dog - Aadya, he had learned. Afton trusted her, perhaps more than she should have - but she was generally cooperative, and he had even come to enjoy her presence, if only a bit. A small Basenji rounded the corner, nodding to afton. The guard change - even if most didn't believe watching over a currently resting dog was really neccessary, Afton knew it to be his duty. The massive dog dipped his multi-colored head and padded off towards the feeding room - a dim area with painfully low ceilings, stale air, and teeming with dogs vying for breakfast. He found his bowl immediately, and took to chatting to the rest. Kordelas, Spring, Zadolt. "Sleep well?" _____ The Basenji huffed at the outline of the yellow-pelted loaf of a dog. She was harmless, in his eyes. It would be no great loss if he plodded off. And so, leaving the prisoner to her own devices, he trotted off, not wanting to miss his breakfast. |
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Aadya | #63 | Female| Pembroke Welsh Corgi | M: Afton (ind.) Two weeks. It had been two miserable weeks stuck in the stuffy tunnels. And now she was pretending to be asleep. It was better than having one of the smelly tunnel dogs looming over her. Big-dog had been insufferable these past few days. Afton, what a weird name. He had almost seemed worried about what the Cull would do to her after what had happened during those two weeks were up. He cared far too much for Aadya's liking. It was almost comical, how the big dog would fret and pace. Anything the little corgi could turn into a snarky jab at him she would. For that matter, the little dog had hardly used his name for the duration of her imprisonment. Anything to get a rise out of her captor. She had been oh so bored without anything expected of her. With nothing to think about but what the cull had in mind for her. As if she would be around to find out, she mused as the basenji padded away. It only took a moment for her to slide into the tunnels. Once of the few freedoms Aadya had was that of wandering aimlessly in the tunnels--as long as her guard was with her. The only one who she had managed to talk into taking her was the big dog, and it had been quite amusing to find the smallest possible tunnel and taunt Afton. Hey, learning the tunnels did end up being useful after all. The little dog weaved through the tunnels, ducking in and out of dead-end passages in an attempt to throw anyone who attempted to track her scent off the trail, if only temporarily. She had one goal in mind: get home. Home? Or simply where I lived? It wasn't something she could brood about. Overthinking her choice could mean her death. Banishing the thoughts from her head, the little dog shoved the grate off of a sewer drain and slid into the arid sunlight. |
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Lightbringer
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Scythe | #210 | Male| Lurcher | M: Aadya, others Scythe had always enjoyed morning patrols. Although nothing ever interesting really happened, it was a chance to stretch his legs, feel the wild wind whip his face. It was the transition season - not winter, and soon to be spring. The rains were going to dump any second now, the dog was sure, so he may as well enjoy the fresh air while possible. The humidity of the spring season made being indoors absolutely insufferable; it seemed that the air was thick and musty, as far as Scythe was concerned. The tall lurcher inhaled deeply, nose twitching, and immediately halted. The new scent was distinctly canine, and Scythe tensed, wary once more. Carefully tracking the trail, the dog rounded the bend, only to come across a small long dog. He recongized her, almost immediately, as Sixty-Three. She had gone missing two or so weeks ago, and all scouts were supposed to be on the look out for a stubby little corgi - and she was even smaller than the tall mixed breed could have anticipated. "Sixty-Three," he said, almost a question, head inclined quizically. "Right. Em - Follow me. We've been ordered to escort you to the Chief immediately if found." The lurcher's expression furrowed, and the dog muttered something to himself before turning off, and trotting back, ensuring that the little dog was able to keep up with his long, ground-covering gate. The headquarters came into view soon enough, and the dog ducked into one of the tunnels, ending up at the mouth of the training arena. He turned to Sixty-Three. "So. Chief's in there, I reckon, if you're planning on runnin' in and offering a report. Why - why were you missing again? If you said anything, I must'a missed it," he said. He was pretty sure the dog had kept quiet, but not certain. |
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Rache | Female | Doberman Husky mix | Charlie/Foxtrot | 61 | Mentions: All
Sixty-One nodded. She wouldn't give Seventy-Six the pleasure of hearing her apologize. She'd chosen what she'd said, and she wouldn't be put down by a... Mike dog.
Turning away from the rest of the regiment, she watched as Bravo ran the course, noting how they ran, noting their faults, over compensations, and speed. Sixty-One knew that Beta and Commander Twenty-Four didn't care what they looked like, how elegant or nicely they cleared the jumps and weaved, as long as they made it through without a stumble or fault, without missing the jump and tripping, and of course finishing as fast as possible, they were good. Or rather, she was good.
"I'm ready," Sixty-One said. She wasn't in the mood to wait for Seventy-Six to announce that they were ready to start, so instead, she did that herself and approached commander Twenty-Four. "Commander, we're ready," she said.
"Good. Time starts in ten seconds. You better get yourselves ready" the commander replied curtly, and Sixty-One nodded.
She walked over to the starting line and eyed the clock as it counted down, positioning herself to run, spotting Eighty-Eight walking towards the beginning of the sprint. She hadn't expected the greyhound mix to actually know where to go, maybe he wasn't worthless.
Sixty-One watched the stopwatch, and the second she saw it start, sprinted forward. She wasn't nearly as fast as Eighty-Eight, but she knew how to run.
She sped up the first ramp, jumping over the last bit to land on the second, and on the last inch, pushed herself forward using her hindlegs like a spring. She landed near the base of the wall, but, without losing her momentum, rushed up it. Sixty-One had miscalculated how fast she'd reached the top, and nearly fell off the ledge, but, using her legs she managed to thrust herself away from the wall and landed, barely registering the slight pain in her paws as she ran up the third.
Sixty-One was breathing hard, but unlaboured as she scrambled up the dirt hill, her legs straining to propel herself up the loose gravel that slipped away with every step, but she managed to reach the top and speed, almost slide, down the hill as she prepared for the box jumps. If she jumped too far or too short she'd mess up.
Lowering her head she jumped to the first box, and then the next, and the next. She quickly found a rhythm to the jumping, and though she took it one at a time, almost flew over them, barely touching the boxes as she jumped.
Then Sixty-One reached the large ditch. Her chest was heaving now, as she prepared for the last and largest jump. She was starting to hate jumps.
Huffing she lept over, barely reaching the other side, and sprinted towards where Eighty-Eight was waiting, and the second she skidded to a stop beside him, he was gone. |
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Darkseeker
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Commander Hoffen of Foxtrot | #34 | Male | Alleged Schnauzer/Wolf cross | M: Kämpe and Thulo
Metal teeth clamped together with crushing force, yet met only air. Perhaps the lumbering beast was quicker than he had assumed. It had been a long while since a dog he had fought, sparring or otherwise, had the chance to launch a counterattack. Interesting. Hoffen by no means was a small dog, in fact, he was considered large even amongst culls. Yet he had always seemed to lack the bulk that some of the best fighters carried. Perhaps that was why he had never been placed in a fighting regiment. Well, that or the fact that the creature that ran the regiment would've had one look at the fire that had once burned in his eyes and spilled his guts across the pavement. From what he knew about those regiments, was that their success banked on the dogs nearly lacking thought. None was needed when it took one about four seconds to rip a dog in two. That was why Foxtrot and Bravo were the elite regiments. Or, well, had once been. There was no time to mull over such now. The minute the massive dog whipped around, he knew something was off about his movements. The roundest part of his body was stiff where it should not have been. No dog moved like that. Enhancements, somewhere. Hoffen could use that. Now, Hoffen was no delicate flower. Such a thing didn't exist within the walls of his city. Yet, the minute the force of his charge was thrown back at him, he seemed to hardly make a move against it. Two could use momentum to their advantage. Had he resisted the blow, leaned against the bone-crushing force, far more damage could have been done. Or the wind could've been knocked out of him. Well, he had to admit the wind would have been knocked out of him either way, but still. Gasping for air could be the last things one's lungs would ever do. Instinctively, he pulled his neck toward his chest, kicking out with all four of his paws as to get the momentum to roll back onto his feet. It may have looked ridiculous, but it could have saved his neck, quite literally. The sharply honed metal of his hind legs could easily cut through unprotected flesh if his straight-on. He has the feeling this dog would not be so easily deterred. Fighting regiment dogs could take the pain. Stopping the beast without inflicting major damage to either would be no easy task. Good thing it was simply a training exercise. Although, it was useful to learn how the belligerent hunks of flesh fought. Just in case. Still, it seemed the dog had very little in the brains compartment. Good. With a flash of realization in his eyes, which as if of their own accord flashed momentarily to Kämpe, he made a rush for the beast of a dog, Ninety-Six. Throwing himself an inch or so off the mark of the beast's shoulder, all he needed was for the dog to turn. Hoffen was going for the dog's tail. And if things got rougher than he hoped, Thulo wouldn't need it anyway. |
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Lightbringer
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Kämpe | Chief Cull | (Beauceron/Kangal/Malinois) | 24 | M: Hoffen, Thulo, Aadya, Scythe The Chief was blanking. That wasn't something she used to do. She found herself staring, eyes hooded, posture alert, but gaze distant. Her thoughts seemed to twist and cycle, always coming back to: What the hell am I doing? Because Kämpe wasn't sure. When her mind wandered, considered emotion and apathy, truth and lies, registered her own pain - and cowardice - the tug on her mind pulled her back into that blank sort of obediant, oppressive silence. This was wrong. Everything was wrong - she was wrong, a beast with too many throats ripped at her metal fangs - she felt that horrible, horrible emotion, panicked and trapped, then nothing. It didn't make sense. What did she want? She shouldn't want. She was content, Kämpe was a good soldier, she had no need for such thoughts. But the flashing fangs of the Commander and the large fighting dog caused her to tense, clench her jaws. She kept wondering if Hoffen - the Commander - would slip, find jaws at his throat, have his life ripped away. It bothered her - why did it? Why, why, why was her head such a mess recently? Flickers of a dog, then the familiarity of the Chief Cull. Her distant gaze was snapped away as a tall lurcher came into sight, with the long dog by his side. She was supposed to be dead. That dog had to have information - she had survived however Kilo delt with prisoners, and that dog - she was the first to do so, and that was the last puzzle piece clicked neatly in place. Kilo would fall apart from here, and it had only took an escaped prisoner with information. Her analytical, half-mechanical mind had only seen the dog for her small stature and lack of physical ability, when compared to the larger breeds - perhaps, in all Kämpe's withdrawn calculating, she had underestimated the small reature. "Sixty-Two," she called, voice edged and cold, but eyes far more alert and intruiged than was her usual aloof distance. "Report. Immediately." |
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Summer 
Night Weather: 
Clear Moon: 
