Kämpe | Female | Cheif Cull (German Shepherd Cross) | 24 | M: Hoffen, Zadolt

There was a flash of vulnerability on Hoffen's face, but it vanished as quickly as it had come. Again, that emotion Kämpe had never seen on any other Cull. It was curious. It didn't ever occur to Kämpe to question his honesty. Any regularly programmed cull wasn't able to lie to the Cheif. Although she knew there was something different about Hoffen, in her mind, he had to be unable to lie to his superiors, just like the rest of them. A vague outline of humour flickered across his features - again, foreign and strangely intruiging.

Despite the revelation, her mind was as emotionless and cold as ever. He had been a rebel. How had Beta gotten to him? How was the rebellion formed? If he was anything like her, memories would have been forgotten - but perhaps asking wouldn't do any harm. She was on the verge of inquiring when he spoke. His next words chilled her. She had expected him to notice, she supposed. But most culls wouldn't question her actions. She knew she should reprimand him for questioning her, but she felt no motivation to do so. Only because it would waste time, she told herself.

I'm a traitor to Beta. Traitor.

Her programming seemed unable to grasp the concept of such a thing.

"I let him go." Kampe knew she was physically able to lie to a lower-ranking Cull or dog, although her programming set a sort of caution mechanism - Culls only lied when it was logical to do so. But, for a moment, logic seemed irrelevant, plunging into the deep void in her mind. That void - it was the dog within her. The memories she suddenly realized were missing, as a result of her newfound history of a brother. Indeed, she recalled six or seven clear scenes of her past with Zadolt in them. Once he managed to break through her programming, he had left a permanent wound in her machinery. She remembered the memories he had brought up, and although they were faint, vague, and random, they appeared set on remaining within her mind. Yet she could not find anything else in her head. Just a perplexing void of darkness where memories should be. The only memories of her dog life she could possibly have were the ones that broke through her programming - nothing more. It was unnerving, and made her feel as though she was missing something. Kampe was intelligent, sharp, unaccustomed to missing a detail. Yet the darkness in her mind yawned still, ominous and strangely empty.

All aside - there was a reason she wouldn't lie to Hoffen. He hadn't lied to her. And there was some part of her - something canine - that felt she could not betray his honesty. That it would be morally wrong to do such a thing. Morals. That was a word that was a part of that void within her. Kampe could also trace the outline of what a dog might call gratitude. He had saved her life. This faint semblance of emotion made little sense to the cull, but she knew she could not speak lies when he spoke truth.

Kämpe's shockingly blue eyes didn't slide away, didn't lose intensity at his inquiry. There was no reason to hide from the truth she didn't wish to face, and there was no emotion behind her words. Simply the familiar darkness of nothing at all. "In most cases, yes. I have my reasons for allowing his life to continue, none of which are of great importance in the moment." A twisted truth - the reason for Zadolt's sruvival was certainly of great importance to Kämpe, but now was not the best time to delve into her newfound memories.

The commander spoke once again, and Kämpe had already began to turn away. "Yes," she responded briskly. She padded away, metal claws clicking. The Chief needed to leave this place, where her memory and programming had been far too rattled for comfort. That wasn't to say that that Beta was any less daunting - she was convinced that her mistake with Zadolt might very well bode her removal at long last. Although she had formulated more than one excuse for her actions, all were feeble and petty.

The Chief Cull never did hold his or her position for long. One might live to acheive the rank, and one could be sure she would die in that rank, probably far too soon. She had held the position for far longer than the normal, but she was sure it wouldn't last. Nothing ever did. Not even the cold apathy she had been blessed and cursed with. At every moment a memory triggered the apathy to slip away, she felt herself longing for the silence once again. It was easier to feel nothing. No love, no loss. No pain, no guilt, no greif. Nothing.

Just silence.

Afton | Male | Kilo | Bouvier/Dalmation/Pyerenees | 82 | M: All

Afton had been dutifully training when the chaos unfolded. First Ty left, along with Arrow, then Hero and Gin followed. They returned with a new dog. Then Ty left once more, Arrow in tow, along with Gin. Again. Now they were back, and it was obvious that something was off. They seemed to have gained two new dogs, while losing Ty in the process. The scent of blood was thick in the air. Afton immediately broke formation, approaching the group. His dark, golden-brown eyes flicked across the gathered dogs, worry etched into his features.

"Commander Gin? What is happening? And where is Tysta?"

The massive dog had held his curiosity in check, but his concern and, well, fear, had grown too strong, far more so than his sense of discipline.

No more questions. Let them catch their breath, his mind muttered, but he found that it would be far simpler to just let the cull answer everything, here, now.

"And who are the new dogs? The three of them?"

Beta, his mind whispered. It was the only logical conclusion - he hadn't seen either of them, and by the way the odd long-dog struggled, it was clear she wasn't too happy about this. The other two dogs were larger, and held themselves like soldiers, in a way Kilo dogs never did. Afton's eyes narrowed. Enemies. Gin had brought enemies into the Kilo base. Were they to be interrogated? Why were the two larger dogs not fighting? By all the dirt below his paws, what was happening? The large dog waited, posture wary, making no move until he was ordered to do so.

Kämpe | Female | Chief Cull (GSD cross) | 24 | M: All

The Cull had fallen into an empty sort of apathy. Just, really, nothing at all. It really was vast, the change from the familiar stoicism to flash of memory, of feeling. Kampe found her room for thought was far more ideal when there was nothing but cold logic and metal in her mind. She had developed reasoning for her prior actions, a plan that might spare her life while retaining honesty. She was to report to Beta headquarters immediately, assuming that there was no other issues to be dealt with. Kampe took more time to analyze the past events, her actions, Commander Thirty-Four's actions, the newfound Kilo. Sixty-Two, Twenty-Eight. Kampe trusted Sixty-Two to report back with information shortly. Perhaps most importantly, she had information to bring back to Beta, which might very well be her alibi for the release of Twenty-Eight. If not, she had a backup plan. Two, actually. If all failed, she would most likely never live to see another day.

Kampe halted at the side gate. Lockdown was still in place. Sending her line of thought through her programming in a practiced act, she let her command run through her mind.

Lift Lockdown on side outer-gate, West Wing, entryway 12. Lock after my and Commander Thirty-Four's entry.

Her transmitter flashed, and the almost unnoticable light atop the steel door flashed. The thing drew aside with a metallic rumble, and Kampe padded forward, her first stop being the training arena, to ensure all was well before continuing on to the headquarters. She wound her way through the halls, never stopping to look back.

What she walked in to was chaos. Kampe stepped forth into the arena, her piercing blue gaze flashing across the mess. Twenty-Five, the new cull. He pinned the wolfblood, Twenty-One. Sixty-One, Sixty-Three, and Sixty-Five were quarelling, though Sixty-Five seemed to have been neutralized. Two new dogs were on the scene - ah. Mike canines, it must be. No other regiment would have dogs that carried themselves with such authority that they were willing to glare at a cull.

Run diagnostics on the newcomers, she commanded her programming. Instantaneously, her programming responded.

Twenty-Nine, Wolfblood, Regiment Mike. Seventy-Six, Pureblood, Regiment Mike. Both here by orders.

Whatever had happened here was complete and utter failure. Perhaps not on the new cull's part, as it seemed he had just arrived on the scene, nor the Mike dogs directly. Though, the Mike dogs would need to learn some respect, it seemed - their gazes were perhaps a bit too disdainful, disrespectful. No. It was the Bravo and Foxtrot dogs that had failed, and the Charlie dogs that had been unable to keep the rebellious canines in check.

Without missing a beat, Kampe strided into the arena, features cold, radiating command.

"What. Is. This." She snarled, whirling to face the Mike dogs. They must fear her, and she had no doubt that they would. Her alarmingly blue eyes flashed across Bravo and Foxtrot, then the Charlie dogs, then Cull Twenty-Five. She left a void of silence, to let the tension rise, so her arrival would carry more weight, instill more fear.