Kämpe snapped her head upwards, eyes catching Hoffen. He hadn't asked for permission, simply left. She would reprimand him. Later. She couldn't afford disobedience, not now. They had just located a rebel force, one that Hoffen presumably had some extent of knowledge of, as he had known the cull.

Twenty-eight continued speaking, voice even. Kämpe didn't twitch, didn't move a single muscle. Her expression remained completely composed, demenor nothing more than taciturn and apathetic. She cared little for what this dog said. Either he was lying - which her programming couldn't pick up - or he was telling a strange, potentially informative truth. He lived, only because Kämpe knew he was still useful. He knew something, something she didn't.

My closest friend.

Her mind flickered. It occured to her that a wire of her transmitter had been slashed in battle, by the golden dogs fangs.

My closest friend.

Her mind flickered. Something bubbled in her chest, the same feeling that had ensued as the enemy cull had mentioned Paran.

Paran.

No.

Zadolt. Zadolt, my closest friend.

She began to twitch as her programming malfunctioned, as the memories fought, clawed their way to the surface. Pain sparked behind her eyes. Machine against flesh - machine had always won. But not now, not a few minutes ago. A flash of crackling, sizzling pain in her mind. Her temples pulsed. She wanted to crumple to the ground and never rise again.

Then she noticed something - a lack of Beta's oppressive, constant presence. Her face flashed - flashed with a stunned sort of shock. Memories. Memories flooded her mind. She leaned down, blood dripping from the wound near the base of her skull.

"Brother?" She breathed, barely even a whisper.

Kämpe leapt off him with a hiss. Blood. Blood on her claws. Blood on him.

Monster. I'm a monster. My brother - what - this isn't -

her programming screamed for control.

Pain. More pain in her skull. Her body twitched, finding a foothold, and thrusting her body forward - lunging for Zadolt. Her mind recovered, jerking her back, only inches away from her half-brother. A snarl was set on her features, fury at herself, at what she had become. She was going to kill him. She could see how easily she could tear his neck from his throat, how she would watch him bleed, for betraying Beta.

No!

Every ounce of strength Kämpe had in her soul fought.

"Run!" she snarled, eyes blazing. "I'm going to kill you. Run."

The cull tore away from him, pressing herself in the corner of two walls, claws clutching the ground. More pain in her mind. A spasm ran through her metal and flesh body. Her eyes met his. A fierce, resolutely determined conviction blazed in her eyes. She wouldn't kill him, despite her programming. She was fighting, but she couldn't hold off Beta for long.

Kämpe watched as her brother left, his final words still clear in her mind.

I've just commited treason. Against Beta. I let him go free.

Her mind started flicking through solutions. How she might answer Beta, when they inquired. She couldn't lie. Not only was it physically impossible - her programming forbid such actions against Beta - but also foolish. They could pluck apart a lie as easily as breathing, and it would certainly end in her removal. No - she had to act as though it was all part of the plan. Yes, logically, it would make more sense to free him. Of course, Aadya would catch them, and Zadolt would only lead her to the rebel base.

Part of the plan.

Kämpe lived in fear. In fear of Beta. Nobody knew - at least she assumed. Cull's weren't supposed to feel fear. But Kämpe had spent her years watching, observing. A Cull that still had his or her mind was more mentally capable - however, they were likely to rebel if they wished, as it was possible for mind to prevail over programming. So Beta instilled a single emotion - fear. To stamp down all hope, all acts of defiance. Beta was afraid, too. They feared an uprising - from the people. From the dogs.

From the culls that still had their heads screwed on their shoulders.

It was fear that kept these culls, including Kämpe, silent. The metal - minded culls were machines - no true fear in the least.

Fear drove anger, fear drove pain. Kämpe knew - for she was afraid. Afraid of Beta. Afraid of displaying her fear. Afraid of being removed. Beta watched her constantly, calculating, waiting for a mistake. Chief Culls always had a real brain - but none held the position long before making a single mistake, before messing up. Kämpe had held the role longer than most, because she had learned to think ahead.

But she was convinced she wasn't making it out of this one, despite her mind attempting to form a plan.

She twitched, programming launching into another seige of her brain. She couldn't handle this. The cull slumped to the floor, the metal of her body having a temporary breakdown. The blood leaked onto her muzzle.

I cannot bleed. Her mind muttered, unable to admit weakness, before slipping into temporary darkness while her system rebooted itself.

Alta | Female | German Shepherd | Charlie | 63 | M: Pfiel, Rache

Alta dipped her head to her sister.

Stay safe, her dark gaze seemed to convey. Alta doubted there was anything Rache couldn't handle - but times were certainly... uncertain.

Alta inclined her head to the doberman. "Twenty-five. Follow me."

His fate was indeed a viable option for Alta and Rache's future. The sisters were still 'in training', but the Charlie warrior knew it wouldn't be much longer. Should she cherish the moments when her mind was still her own? Or would it become too painful to remember, then have her life stolen away? Alta didn't live for much. Her Mother was dead at an early age, and she had never known her father. All her littermates were selected and disperesed between regiments, if they were deemed fit for training. She hadn't seen them since she was only a few days old, really. They were only a slight warmth in the cold, twisted track of her memory.

Alta only lived because a will to survive was buried deep within the depths of her soul. Alta survived because her sister lived on. She could not leave her.

But what did this doberman have to live for? Perhaps the transition would be easier for him.

The cold concrete beneath Alta's paws shifted into cool tile. The lab. Alta had always hated this place - limping dogs, mutilated dogs, screaming dogs, snarling dogs. The eerie presence of humans as well. Alta raised her head, fading out everything in her periphreral vision. A human stood in front of her, white coat swinging about (his? her?) ankles, mask concealing facial features.

The human muttered to itself, before gesturing for Alta to leave.

The dog turned away immediately.

She didn't look back.

(Not sure how you want to play this out - time skip?)

Orden | Female | Half Blood, Border Collie Cross | Beta (Bravo) | 22 | M: Rache, Alta, Pfiel, Anfall, Others indirectly

Orden watched as the pair left. Another dog, a good dog, lost. Lost, destined to become a machine. It really did make one think - what was Hoffen like before he was a cull? Kämpe? It was a strange, chilling concept, to acknowledge that these metal creatures might once have been dogs. How they were stripped away from their identity, had their personality, their heart, their soul murdered, how they were shoved into a different body, forced to obey without question. How their loved ones were torn from their minds.

It was horrifying, when one thought about it. A tale that would be told to a pup to scare it. If Orden didn't have any sort of composure, she would have shivered. But she was a dog born to Bravo - outward emotion was difficult to discern.

Anfall's voice rose.

"What now, commander?" She said, voice cold. She was adressing the remaining Charlie dog in her usual, spiteful manner.

Fool. She's going to get herself killed. Not that she cares. Perhaps death is preffered, in her mind.

Anfall was an interesting dog - she hated the world, and it hated her right back.